


And The Stars Never Rose

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, F/M, Horcrux Creation, pregnancy loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:42:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 33,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: 1970. After a disastrous failed pregnancy with Rodolphus almost claims Bellatrix's life, she swears to be celibate forever. There's only one problem - during her healing process, Bellatrix grows closer and closer to the Dark Lord. Once Lord Voldemort becomes just as much a comfort as a master, will Bellatrix move past her marriage vows and her promise to herself? Complete.





	1. Chapter 1

"She's dying! You have to help. You have to help us!"

"Mr Lestrange, we are doing everything we can. We are not certain why this is happening."

Bellatrix tried to open her eyes. She felt so weak she could hardly breathe. She'd spent ten hours solid vomiting. That's what they'd said. The Healers had never seen so much vomit come out of one human before. She had been injected with some kind of potion to regenerate the fluids inside of her, for she'd become terribly dehydrated.

Bellatrix was pregnant, and it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

She'd left school in June, and in July, she'd married Rodolphus, just like they'd promised their families they'd do. They'd had sex, just like they were meant to do, and by August, Bellatrix was pregnant. Now it was late September, a week after her nineteenth birthday, and she felt like she was dying.

It had begun with the vomiting. She'd actually discovered that she was pregnant because she thought she'd come down with a terrible illness. It was far beyond any semblance of normal morning sickness - she couldn't keep down so much as a tiny sip of water or a nibble of toast. For days on end, day after day after day, Bellatrix retched and heaved up every sip and every bite and then some. Eventually she began to faint over buckets, over toilets.

Then she began to feel completely weak, and her heart began to flutter strangely. Her mind began to feel like mush, and her limbs felt like they were made of lead. She was confined to a bed, relying on people holding charmed Bottomless Buckets for her in which to be sick. The fluids potions helped keep her alive, for the Healers said she would have died of dehydration otherwise.

"We have to terminate," the Healer in the dark blue bedroom said softly to Rodolphus, and Bellatrix tried to turn her head a little. Terminate? End the pregnancy? Somehow, she didn't care. She'd been unable to forge any semblance of a connection with whatever creature was growing inside of her, for that creature was what was causing her such unbearable misery. That creature was killing her.

"Get it out," she whispered, but no one heard her. Rodolphus said frantically to the aged, bearded Healer,

"We can't kill the baby!"  
"Get it out!" Bellatrix said more loudly, and both men turned their faces to look at her, their eyes wide. Bellatrix coughed and spluttered, exhausted from the effort of speaking. She shut her eyes and begged, "Please make this stop. Please don't let me die."

"It is the only way, Mr Lestrange," said the Healer. There was a very long pause, and finally Rodolphus whispered,

"Fine."

* * *

"Bellatrix, you have a visitor."

"Is it my mother again, come to mourn the grandchild I murdered?" Bellatrix asked dully. She stared out the window at the sunny London street below. Rodolphus came to stand before her, his round face sorrowful. He was short and plump, not exactly a good-looking man, but a brave and dedicated Death Eater like Bellatrix. He shook his head and informed her,

"It's the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Bellatrix sat up, forcing her hands to push her upward. She began to shake, staring down at herself, and she realised she was wearing only a thin nightgown. "Dolph, could you fetch me a dressing gown?"

"Of course." He went over to her wardrobe; there were two in their bedroom here in the London townhouse. He pulled out a black silk robe and brought it over, and he helped her slip it on and helped her tie it round the waist. Bellatrix whispered,

"He's going to be furious with us. Terminating a Pureblood pregnancy."

"He is not furious," Rodolphus assured her. "I've spoken with him. He would have been furious about losing one of his most dedicated servants. You were dying, Bella. We were losing you."

"I know." Her eyes watered, which hadn't been possible when she'd been ill. She'd been too dehydrated to cry. She stared at Rodolphus, at the pockmarks from acne and the pimples he still had. He still looked like such a boy, and she told him, "You're far too young to be a father."

He curled up his lips sadly and shook his head, cupping her jaw in his hand. "Don't worry. No one's angry. I'll send him in. He wants to talk to you alone."

"Does it smell of vomit in here?" Bellatrix asked worriedly, and Rodolphus assured her,

"You haven't been sick in almost two days, and Minky's been cleaning. It smells fine. Just the same…  _Airefresca._ "

He waved his wand through the air carefully, and Bellatrix nodded gratefully. Rodolphus rose from where he crouched and walked out of the bedroom. Bellatrix knitted her fingers together and anxiously breathed out through pinched lips. Finally, the bedroom door opened again, and Lord Voldemort came walking in.

He was a towering, imposing figure, tall and broad with flowing dark grey robes. His hair, thinning and greying, made him look older than Bellatrix knew him to be. His face, too, seemed chipped and worn. But he was still profoundly handsome. She'd always thought so. He was so much more handsome than her boyish, pimpled husband.

"Master," she said quietly, bowing her head and keeping it bowed. When she looked up, Voldemort was drawing lines in the air with his wand, and she frowned in confusion until she realised what he was doing. He was nonverbally Conjuring a chair for himself. It wasn't just any chair, either; it was an elegant rococo chair with brocade upholstery. Bellatrix marveled at his impressive magic as he arranged the chair beside the bed and sat. He nodded.

"Good to see you like this. The last time I saw you, they'd heavily sedated you. I don't think you knew I was here."

"Oh. No, I… I didn't know. I'm sorry," Bellatrix said. Then her eyes welled again, and she whispered once more, "I'm sorry. Master, I'm sorry."

"Stop that." He shook his head and sat up straighter. "You almost died."

"I know." Bellatrix used a knuckle to brush away her tears. "I begged them. I beseeched them to end it, to take the thing out of my body. Am I damned for it, My Lord?"

"No. You saved yourself, and in so doing, you rescued my greatest Death Eater for me. I shall always be grateful for that self-preservation."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open at that, for she was shocked to hear him speak of her in such a way. She nodded a little and told him resolutely,

"Well. Contraceptive charms aren't enough for me, My Lord. I don't trust them. I've already broken the news to Rodolphus. I'm to be celibate from now on."

"Celibate." Voldemort raised his eyebrows in alarm, and he informed her, "Your husband will run about on you, you realise."

"I don't care. I couldn't possibly care! Let him have all the girls in the world, but he won't have me. No man will touch me. I may be married, but I will be celibate. I've decided. I can never, ever risk this happening again, Master. Not ever!" Bellatrix exclaimed. She was clutching the blankets now, squeezing tightly at them, and Voldemort said patiently,

"There are ways… permanent sterilisation methods that -"

"I can't!" Bellatrix interrupted. "I'm too afraid."

Voldemort just nodded. "That can all be addressed much, much later. And, anyway, it's your business. Yours and your husband's."

"I apologise for bringing it up in front of you, My Lord," Bellatrix said, feeling ashamed. Her cheeks went hot, and Voldemort cleared his throat as he said carefully,

"I am only grateful to see you alive and… if not well, then… better. I genuinely thought we might lose you, Bellatrix, and I confess that facing your mortality put a spike of extreme discomfort through me. So I am happy now, to see you sitting up, to hear your voice speaking. You gave me quite a fright."

Bellatrix met his eyes, and for a long moment they just stared at one another. She'd been serving him for over a year now, and she'd had a crush on him all the while. They were so rarely alone. Now she could study the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, the dark colour of his eyes, and she murmured,

"Thank you for visiting me."

"My pleasure," he nodded seriously. He finally broke their shared stare, sighing as he turned his attention to the blankets on the blue bed. He scratched at his hair a little and said, "I'll let you rest. Be well, Bellatrix. I'll come again soon."

"You will?" she blurted, and he smirked as he stood slowly from the chair he'd Conjured. He nodded.

"Unless I'm not welcome."

"You're always welcome, Master," Bellatrix nodded frantically. He glanced at the table beside her and frowned, and he said,

"You ought to have water all the time, no? Here.  _Crystallum. Aguamenti._ " He dragged his wand through the air, Conjuring a perfect crystal glass and then filling it with water. He passed it to Bellatrix, who smiled gratefully, and he muttered, "I'll leave the chair. Goodbye, Bella."

"Goodbye, My Lord," she said quietly, and as he walked out of her room, she sipped a little at the water he'd given her.

**Author's Note: Hello! Yes, it's me again. As you can plainly see, this one is** _ **much**_   **heavier than the last fic, but I tend to like to alternate. This will be a slower burn with lots of politics and personal machinations. As always, thank you so much for reading and please do leave a review if you get a quick moment.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Cygnus. Come in." Voldemort stopped pacing in the lounge in Malfoy Manor, and Cygnus Black, dough-faced and meek, came shuffling in. He had a stutter; he'd always had a stutter, even as a Slytherin four years younger than Lord Voldemort. He wasn't a Death Eater now, but was a substantial financial supporter of the cause.

"Hello, M-My Lord," Cygnus stammered. "I t-t-trust you received the… the… the…"

"All the funds are in my secure Gringotts account, and I am grateful," Voldemort said, gesturing to two armchairs before a crackling fire. It was a chilly, rainy day today, and so he'd put flames to roaring. Cygnus sat, his aubergine robes billowing about him like the petals of a flower. He looked anxious and frightened, but, then, he'd always done so.

"How is Druella?" Voldemort asked plainly. "How is she taking all this business with Bellatrix?"

"B-B-B-Bellatrix has always been a fighter, sir," Cygnus said rather evasively, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"I asked about your wife."

Cygnus' cheeks pinked. He shook his head silently, and that told Voldemort everything he needed to know. He cleared his throat and snapped,

"Druella must understand that the Healers were left with no other choice. If her visits to Bellatrix will consist of her chastising the girl for doing what was medically necessary, then I won't have her visiting at all."

"I underssstand," Cygnus nodded. His face reddened with embarrassment from his stammer, and Voldemort rolled his eyes.

"You've spoken like this your whole life, Cygnus; it doesn't surprise me now. Your money will fund assassins. You know this?"

"I know th-that your m-m-m-movement will save us all," Cygnus said. "Ressssstore wizarding B-B-Britain to what it can b-b-b-be."

"Means to an end, then," Voldemort nodded, "if I pay my Death Eaters for their exemplary services with your donations. I am grateful for those donations. I hope they keep coming."

"Of c-course." Cygnus nodded, and Voldemort checked the time on the clock on the wall.

"I've got a Cauldron Cake to deliver," he said, and Cygnus seemed to take the hint that it was time to go.

* * *

"Rodolphus," Voldemort nodded, holding the small cardboard parcel in his hands, and Rodolphus shut the front door of the townhouse as he bowed low and stepped aside.

"Master. She'll be so very glad you've come."

Minky, the House-Elf, took Voldemort's rain cloak after Voldemort stripped it off and dropped it on the ground, for it was raining buckets outside. Rodolphus scoffed and said,

"My Lord. Your box stayed dry. You're so skilled."

"Yes, well. What good is wet cardboard?" Voldemort asked. Rodolphus seemed curious about what was in the box, but he didn't ask. He looked like he was stifling a yawn, so Voldemort told him,

"Why don't you use the spare guest room and bathroom, Rodolphus, and rest up for a while?"

"Oh, erm… we've moved Bella into the guest room, My Lord. Her insistence. She was tired of being in our room. She says… erm… she says the guest room is hers now." Rodolphus' face went beet red, and Voldemort's mouth fell open. He just nodded a little and cleared his throat.

"Right. Well, you rest in the master, then. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I feel that way, sir," Rodolphus nodded and said, "I'm actually going to visit my brother, Rabastan. He works at the Ministry, you know, in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. He's very sympathetic to the cause. I'd like to draw him even further in."

"Good man." Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "Remind him that if he's vetted and approved as a Death Eater, there's a ten thousand Galleon signing bonus. Of course, remind him that it's for life, and that he'll be enlisting as my soldier in every way."

"I don't think he's quite there yet, Master, but I mean to get him there. I mean to make him yours," Rodolphus said, and Voldemort smirked.

"Off with you, then."

"Good day, My Lord." Rodolphus took his rain cloak off the rack and headed out the front door, and Voldemort sighed as he walked up the large, slightly winding staircase. This was an elegant, expensive home, for both Bellatrix and Rodolphus came from old, wealthy families. He walked past the large master suite and approached the smaller guest room, a creamy butter yellow room with silk brocade on the bed and windows. When he walked inside, Bellatrix was asleep, looking very peaceful where she lay, and she didn't stir one bit when he came in. He frowned when he saw Anodyne Draught on the table by her bedside; she'd been heavily sedated from the painkiller.

He Conjured a chair, a cream toile chair with wooden legs, and he put it beside the bed, feeling a flush of fatigue from the complex magic. He sat in the chair and set down his box beside Bellatrix's bed, and he studied her for a long moment.

She was pretty, he thought. He hadn't taken the time to really look at her face before. She had delicate features - a long, thin nose, enormous eyes, full pouty lips, high cheekbones, alabaster skin. Her face made her look like a doll, but of course Voldemort knew better. She'd spied for him in school and had already murdered one Muggle family for him. She was ruthless, fearless. Bold and daring and loyal. He was fond of her in a way he wasn't fond of any of his other Death Eaters. She had a way about her, a manner that made him smile just a little.

When he'd heard she was pregnant, he'd been a little angry. Of course it was expected that a Pureblood wife would procreate, but he feared his daring little girl would be gone forever, lost to the softness of motherhood. He knew now that motherhood and Bellatrix were incompatible, both physically and philosophically. He examined her wild black curls and felt compelled to reach out and touch them, so instead he murmured,

"Bellatrix."

She didn't stir, so he aimed his wand at her and whispered,

" _Rennervate._ "

She blinked her eyes open then, and for a long moment, she just stared. She thought she was dreaming, he realised. The corners of her lips curled up, and then realisation came over her face, and she shoved herself to sit up.

"Ah, ah, ah. Slowly. Slowly." Voldemort put his hand on her shoulder, leaving it there and urging her back against her pillows to relax a bit. Bellatrix said in a cracked voice,

"You came back, Master."

"Didn't I say I would?" He cocked up a brow, and Bellatrix grinned. She glanced at the brown box beside the bed, and Voldemort pulled off the twine and opened it for her. He held out the little cake inside, and Bellatrix breathed,

"A Cauldron Cake! You've brought me a Cauldron Cake!"

"You like them, I assume?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix nodded fervently.

"I've had nothing but broth and savoury biscuits for days," she lamented. "Oh, chocolate sounds marvelous."

Suddenly Voldemort worried he'd made an awful mistake it bringing her something so complicated. Sure enough, Bellatrix shoved the cake into her mouth and took a bite of the chocolate sponge and frosting, and then she froze with a mouthful of the stuff. She shook her head, her skin going grey, and Voldemort panicked a little. He quickly Conjured a bowl and held it before her, and he told her,

"Spit it out."

She did, making a little retching sound, and she said in an apologetic moan,

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I got so sick for so long; I'm just not ready for real food yet."

"Think nothing of it." Voldemort took the bowl of food and handed her her water, which she sipped carefully. He plopped the rest of the Cauldron Cake into the bowl with the masticated mush and Vanished the lot of it, the bowl included. Bellatrix looked like she was going to cry, and she said again,

"I'm so sorry, Master."

"Stop," he muttered. "It's nothing."

"They have me sleeping most of the time," she informed him, and he nodded.

"I noticed when I walked in. And you're sleeping in the guest room."

"It's my room now." Bellatrix tipped her head up. "Rodolphus can stay in the master suite, and I'll stay in here. I'm celibate now, remember, My Lord?"

"Oh, yes. I remember." He pinched his lips and told her, "You've been sure to notify him that he's free to… to live his own life then?"

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix fluttered her eyes shut and whispered, "This must never happen again."

Voldemort sighed through clenched teeth. "Healers can do magical surgery, Bellatrix. They can sever and cauterise your anatomy in certain ways. Make things permanent."

"I must be certain!" Bellatrix cried, and Voldemort decided to give up that argument. He just nodded and told her,

"I'm sorry for that Cauldron Cake. I ought not to have brought it."

"I shall be back in your service very soon, Master," Bellatrix promised. Voldemort curled up half his mouth and said,

"There are no battles just yet. We'll get you notes if we have a meeting. You're still in service, Bellatrix."

She blinked slowly, and she whispered,

"I'm so tired, Master. I'm sorry."

"I wish you would stop apologising so much," he said, feeling rather uncomfortable. "Lie down. I woke you. You can go back to sleep, but I'm staying. Rodolphus went to his brother's, and I'm not leaving you alone."

"He leaves me alone all the time, Master," Bellatrix said softly, cuddling down onto her pillow and pulling her blanket up. Voldemort scowled.

"Well, I'm not leaving you. Shut your eyes."

Bellatrix was already mostly asleep. The sedation from the Anodyne Draught was settling back into her veins, he could tell. His breath shook in his nostrils a little as he studied her again. He felt a strange tingling on the skin of his arms, on the back of his neck.  _Pretty_ , he thought.  _Loyal. Fearless._  He blinked a few times and thought of her at her worst, when she'd been white-faced and gaunt, when they'd said she'd vomited blood for hours and screamed in agony.

"Master," she whispered, sounding very drowsy, and he just sighed. Her thick brows knit together, and she whispered again, "Master, I wish… I wish…"

"What is it, Bella?" He kept his voice tight and distant, but then she shocked him by mumbling in a blur,

"I wish that you would hold my hand."

Voldemort's breath caught in his throat, and he looked around the room as if to be sure no one was watching or listening. What harm would come of it, he wondered? If he held her hand, just to reassure her broken body, her terrified mind, that someone -  _someone_  - was present with her in this particular moment, what harm would come? He reached out and took her hand in his, cradling her fingers in his palm and squeezing a little.

"You'll be back in my service soon," he said quietly, and Bellatrix murmured contentedly,

"I'll serve you forever and ever and ever and… oh."

She was quiet for a very long time then, her back rising and falling as she fell asleep. Or, at least, Voldemort thought she was asleep, until she whispered in a frightened tone,

"Please don't go yet, Master."

"No, Bella," he said, shaking his head and letting her tighten her fingers around his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

And he didn't, not until Rodolphus came home from his brother's house. By then she'd been asleep for hours, and Rodolphus seemed very surprised that Voldemort was still there. But Voldemort just said stiffly to Rodolphus that he was glad the boy was recruiting his brother, and that he would be back the next day to check on Bellatrix.

* * *

**Author's Note: Mwah hahahaha. This one is entirely too much fun to write. And, yes, Cygnus has a bad stutter and Rabastan isn't a Death Eater yet in this 1970. Changing things up a little. What happens when Bellatrix starts to feel a little better? Hmmm… :} As always, reviews earn your House twenty honorary points. Haha.**


	3. Chapter 3

Bellatrix stood in her bathroom and dabbed Smythe's Smoothing Cream on her face, which had become dry and patchy from her medical nightmare. She smiled just a little as the cream made her face look like perfect porcelain. She used a brush and some dark brown powder on her eyelids, along with some creamy black cream and a thin brush to line her eyes. She touched some liquid rouge onto her cheeks and lips, and dragged some black mascara onto her eyelashes. Her mother had always told her she looked like a doll. Now she really did, she thought.

"You look lovely," said a voice at the bathroom door. Bellatrix turned to see Rodolphus standing there, and she just flashed him a tiny smile. He tipped his head and noticed, "You've dressed and everything. I'm proud of you, Bellatrix."

"I'm sick of lying in bed," she insisted. Lord Voldemort had come four days earlier, which had been his third visit, and he was scheduled to come again today. Bellatrix was determined to meet with him in the lounge downstairs, to show him that she was improving substantially.

"He knows you'll be at meetings soon," Rodolphus said reassuringly, but Bellatrix scowled. She'd missed a meeting two days earlier. Rodolphus had brought her notes, and the discussion at the meeting had centred only around intimidating Mudbloods and finances, but she still felt excluded.

"How much longer until you've got Rabastan into the fold?" Bellatrix asked, and Rodolphus looked hopeful.

"He's very intrigued. I think I can get him to commit quite soon."

"And your love life? Have you begun pursuing anything?" Bellatrix asked. Rodolphus frowned as she pulled her curls into a braid over her shoulder and straightened her black wool dress.

"Bella,  _you_  are my love life," he said quietly. "You're my wife. We'll talk with the Healers and work out a solution to ensure that you're permanently sterile."

"I'm never having sex with you again, Dolph," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly, and she turned to face him. "I'm sorry. I can't."

Rodolphus' face twisted in pain for a moment, but then he shrugged and looked mildly defensive.

"Fine. If that's what you want. Don't be surprised if I trot off with someone else. I've got needs."

"That's what he told me," Bellatrix nodded. "The Dark Lord."

"You  _told_ him about this?" Rodolphus' eyes bugged out, and he seemed abjectly offended. Bellatrix shrugged.

"I am not going to keep secrets from my master."

"This is a matter of our marriage!" Rodolphus exclaimed. "This isn't for… oh, Bellatrix. This pregnancy has really mucked with your head. You look lovely. I'm glad you're up and about. I'm going to Diagon Alley. Do you need anything?"

"Food besides broth," Bellatrix said. "I'm not vomiting it up anymore."

Rodolphus sighed and nodded. "The Healers said you can have things like apples and chicken breast next. I'll send Minky to the Pumpkin and the Pepper Pot later. Nothing for you from any of the other shops?"

"No. Thank you." Bellatrix watched him go, and she turned back to the mirror.

* * *

"My Lord." Bellatrix stood behind Minky, who let Lord Voldemort in, and as he stepped into the house, he seemed exceedingly pleased.

"You're up! And dressed!" he exclaimed.

"I've got makeup on and everything," she smiled. Voldemort smirked.

"Well, I wouldn't know to notice that. Still, I am so happy to see you up and about. Truly. It means you'll be at our next meeting, I think. The lack of your presence was keenly felt at the last one. No one else gets nearly as excited at the prospect of making snide comments to Mudbloods in passing."

Bellatrix laughed softly and told Minky, "Make tea and bring it to the lounge. My Lord, have you a preference for tea?"

"Oolong," he told the House-Elf, and Minky trotted off. She never really spoke, which was find with Bellatrix. It was a warm day, so Voldemort had no outer cloak. But in his hands was a bouquet of black pansies. The deep purple blooms were nestled in dark greenery, and Bellatrix's eyes welled as he handed them over and tipped his head.

"For you, more meaningful now that I see how well you're doing."

"Master." She descended to a knee and kissed his knuckles, but it had been a mistake, because standing proved difficult. He had to help her up, and when he did, there was an odd look in his eyes. Bellatrix silently took the flowers from him, walking into the lounge and aiming her wand at an extravagant crystal vase on the low table between the furniture.

" _Aguamenti,_ " she whispered, and the vase filled with water. She put the flowers into the vase, and then Voldemort came up and muttered,

" _Fiorivitam._ "

A flower preserving charm. She smiled up at him, and their eyes locked for rather a long moment. Voldemort huffed a breath and moved to sit on the plush grey sofa, and Bellatrix sat opposite him in a chair.

"Where's your husband?" Voldemort asked tightly, and Bellatrix told him,

"He's gone to Diagon Alley, My Lord."

"He leaves you alone. The Healers said you're not meant to be alone. I'll speak with Rodolphus," Voldemort said crossly, and Bellatrix shook her head.

"Please don't, Master. I couldn't stand it if he were here all the time. We get on one another's nerves. We really do. And we quarrelled a little earlier about… well, I suspect you know."

"Hmm." Voldemort drummed his fingers on his knee and asked Bellatrix, "He got you notes from the last meeting?"

"He did, My Lord," Bellatrix affirmed. "I was thinking about it. Once I'm able to, I'd like to work with Rookwood and Yaxley and begin a database of all the known Mudbloods in Britain. Then I'm going to memorise the list and try and put names to faces."

"That sounds intensive. Do you think you can handle that?" Voldemort asked, raising his eyebrows. Bellatrix folded her hands on her lap and said,

"I am determined to make it work, My Lord. I will memorise them all so that when I encounter one of them in public, I can hiss at them or laugh, or make some comment to terrify them.  _We'll get you next,_ or,  _You won't last long_."

"The others could follow your lead," Voldemort said happily. "I quite like your initiative. I've always liked your initiative. You're dedicated to the cause."

"I'm dedicated to  _you_ , Master," Bellatrix blurted, before she realised how desperate she sounded. Her eyes bugged out a little, and she shook her head desperately, and Voldemort's lips parted a bit. She felt her eyes burn with embarrassment, but he said quietly,

"You really are my greatest Death Eater, and I need you back. So… heal up quickly, Bella."

"I'm healing, sir," she told him. "Look at me. Days ago, I was barely able to sit in bed. Now I'm dressed and… and…"

She swayed a little where she sat, for she was suddenly very dizzy. Voldemort gave her a very knowing look, and he told her,

"You were determined to show me, and to show Rodolphus, that you were much improved. You were sick of being in bed. But you are still healing, Bellatrix. You need more time. Rushing will lead you one step forward and three steps back. It is my command that you continue to rest and heal on a schedule that leads to optimal healing. Understood?"

"Understood, My Lord," she nodded. "Thank you so much for coming again."

"My pleasure," he said quietly. Bellatrix stared at the black pansies he'd brought her, and she told him,

"No one's ever given me flowers that fit my personality before. White roses, red roses, lilies… I don't care for them. Black pansies… thank you, Master."

"I know my dangerous littlest Death Eater," he teased, though his voice was serious. Bellatrix met his eyes, and he smiled a little. It didn't reach his eyes. He seemed almost frustrated in a way Bellatrix couldn't pin down. He rose slowly from his sofa and came over to Bellatrix, extending his hand.

"I am going to help you upstairs," he said, "and get you back into bed so that you can rest properly. And then I'm going to go."

Bellatrix frowned, confused, because he was always talking about how she shouldn't be alone. But she took his hand, gasping a little at the feel of his skin on hers. For a long moment when they stood, he didn't release her hand. He led her over toward the stairs, and Bellatrix realised she felt very weak, perhaps too weak for the stairs. She leaned on the newel post and whispered,

"I just need a moment."

"Easily remedied," Voldemort said clinically. He scooped Bellatrix up into his arms, making her yelp. She stared up at his face, and he stared right ahead as he carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing. He was chiseled, sharp, greying but rugged and distantly good-looking. Bellatrix held his shoulders as he carried her through the upstairs corridor to her new room, the butter yellow one. He set her on the ground in there, and Bellatrix felt her cheeks go very hot. He took a large step back, standing silently as she said,

"I'll just rest with my book here…" She took her copy of  _The Giant's Bride_  and sat back against her pillows on the bed. "Thank you so much, Master. I'm sure Rodolphus will be back soon."

He just nodded, and he shut his eyes for a moment.

"Thank you for the flowers, My Lord," Bellatrix said, her heart hammering in her chest. He nodded again, his hands on his hips. Suddenly he bent down and planted a swift kiss on Bellatrix's cheekbone, and then he muttered,

"Continue to heal, Bella. We need you back in our ranks. Good day."

He was already out in the corridor before Bellatrix could say in a shocked, breathless voice,

"Good day, My Lord."

**Author's Note: Well. He's certainly becoming… attracted. And it would seem she is, too. Hahaha. Thanks as always for reading and a HUGE thank you for all the feedback so far on this story. I'm super grateful.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: It's Mother's Day, so I don't have time to write today, but this mini-chapter is burning a hole in my head, so here it is. Apologies for its short length.**

_Dear Bellatrix,_

_I hope you are healing well, and that you are beginning to feel like some semblance of yourself again. I know the Healers have ordered two more weeks at home for you (I did speak with Rodolphus). I imagine you must be going rather mad with boredom, but never fear - I have an assignment for you. I'd like for you to draught up a plan for Mudblood intimidation to be shared with your fellow Death Eaters and send it back to me. I will be much obliged for your contribution to the cause, and I have no doubt your plan will translate better to your fellow soldiers than instructions I would give them._

_L.V._

* * *

_My Lord,_

_Attached please find a ten-step plan for intimidating Mudbloods, from comments in and facial expressions to tripping passing Mudbloods in Diagon Alley. I've also included recommendations for children of Death Eaters who are still children at Hogwarts to instill fear in Mudbloods at the school._

_You are absolutely correct, sir, that I am going quite mad with boredom. Rodolphus is gone most of the time now, off with his brother in Knockturn Alley. The two of them spend a good deal of time in the White Wyvern and at the Lazy Unicorn, I think. I can hardly blame him, as I have refused him as my husband, and he is attempting to recruit Rabastan as a Death Eater. Still, I am entirely alone most of the time. It is perfectly fine, except for a bit of the loneliness and boredom that seeps into my veins._

_I hope that this plan for Mudblood intimidation pleases you, Master._

_Bellatrix_

* * *

_Bellatrix,_

_I distributed copies of your plan at our meeting, and it was exceptionally well-received. Already, I have Death Eaters plotting individual methods of instilling fear in Mudbloods, and that's thanks to you. You remain my staunchest and most reliable Death Eater even in your absence._

_Perhaps I might come visit you again, if you are so intractably bored and lonely. If there is a time and date that suits you, please let me know._

_LV_

* * *

_Master,_

_Any time and any date suits me._

_Bellatrix._

* * *

_Tomorrow afternoon, then._

_LV_

* * *

"My Lord!" Bellatrix threw open the door to her townhouse, shoving Minky the House-Elf aside with her foot as the little creature tried to do her job. Voldemort came stepping inside, and Bellatrix said nervously, "Tea, Master? Minky! Tea!"

Voldemort handed over the bouquet of black pansies he'd brought her, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open.

"Flowers," she said quietly, and Voldemort insisted,

"To thank you… for your plan about the Mudbloods. Thank you, Bella."

"Bella," she whispered, and he realised what he'd said. He'd shortened her name to her after handing her flowers. Bellatrix rushed off to put the flowers into a new vase, and Voldemort saw that the other pansies he'd given her, magically preserved, were still in the crystal vase on the low table. Bellatrix seemed to be searching around for a vase in the sitting room. Voldemort smirked and Conjured her a crystal vase, and when she marveled at it, he asked,

"Where shall I put it?"

"Just here, Master." She gestured to a side table, shoving aside a few trinkets to make room. She put the flowers inside and filled the vase with water, and she twisted her hands together as she mumbled,

"I ate a quarter of a breakfast this morning. Had some sausages, even."

"That's good to hear," Voldemort said sincerely. Bellatrix smiled a little and continued,

"I've been up and down the stairs three times on my own today, Master."

"These are fine victories," he told her. "And your work for me making the plan for Mudbloods has been very helpful. You are still in service, Bellatrix. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," she nodded eagerly. "I understand."

He felt a sudden urge to do something very stupid then. He reached out and cupped her jaw in his hand, and he held her face for a long moment until she whispered,

"Master?"

"Let's sit," he said firmly, and the two of them went over to the furniture. He sat on the sofa and sat opposite her, and she seemed exceptionally nervous all of a sudden. Voldemort informed her,

"I have spies everywhere."

"I know, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. He folded his hands in his lap and said,

"I have spies in the Lazy Unicorn."

Bellatrix's face fell a little, and she said softly, "Dolph."

Voldemort nodded, and he said, "You're right. He's there often. With his brother. And he doesn't just take dances. He takes whores."

"Well, I can scarcely blame him," Bellatrix insisted. "I informed him in no uncertain terms that he'll never have my body again. He's free to… to…"

"His behaviour has also freed you," Voldemort said cautiously, and Bellatrix looked confused. He swallowed a knot in his throat and explained, "He's broken your marriage contract as surely as you have. The both of you have rendered your vows void. You're both free to stay married in name but act as you will."

"Oh. I see. But I must be very certain that I am never with child again," Bellatrix insisted. "I almost died, Master. I almost died."

"I know. I saw," he said quietly. He raised his eyes to Bellatrix, who whispered again, her voice thick with uncertainty,

"Master?"

He just nodded, and Bellatrix rose from her chair. Voldemort's voice quickened in his nostrils as she approached him, as she came to stand between his legs. He said very tightly,

"You've worked hard for me even in your convalescence. It is greatly appreciated."

"You kissed my cheek, and you've brought me flowers," Bellatrix said, her eyes welling. Voldemort shrugged.

"I wanted to thank you."

She tipped her head and then shook it. She saw straight through him. She was beautiful, and talented, and intelligent. Young and devoted to him. He tightened his hands together on his lap, and then suddenly Bellatrix was right there between his knees, and her trembling hands reached out for his shoulders.

"May I… may I kiss you, Master?" she asked. For a long moment, he just stared at her, at her enormous black eyes. He glared up at her, not responding, and she started to shirk away, ashamed. He grabbed her wrist as she began to walk away, and he seized her wrist, dragging her back. He was almost even with her sitting, because she was so tiny, so he hardly had to pull her face down to meet his.

"Kiss me," he whispered, and she did. She touched her lips to his, and he muttered, "Harder."

She obeyed. She would always obey. She was obedient and loyal, capable and beautiful. He kissed her hard, dragging his tongue along her lips, and when she pulled away, both of them panting and staring, he pulled his fingers along hers and said quietly,

"Care for a game of wizard's chess or Gobstones?"

**Author's Note: Oh, dear. They kissed. Now what? Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!**


	5. Chapter 5

She'd kissed him.

Or perhaps he'd kissed her. It wasn't exactly clear.

They'd kissed.

Voldemort lay in his bed in the luxurious flat in London where he lived, staring at the ceiling. He was the Dark Lord and could do better than this when it came to housing, but he'd been here since coming back from the Continent, and he liked it. He kept an office at Malfoy Manor and had a suite there for use any time he wanted it, but he quite liked this Kensington flat with its stark white and pale grey decorating scheme.

He pulled himself out of bed and walked into the bathroom, staring at the mirror and examining his face. He was old, he thought. He was forty-three. Because of all the Dark magic he'd performed making his Horcruxes, his face and hair had been prematurely aged, and he looked probably fifty. His hair was mostly grey, and there were crinkles round his eyes. Why had the young and beautiful Bellatrix wanted to kiss him, he wondered?

He'd begun to feel odd things for her lately. He'd taken witches' bodies in his youth, but it had been a great many years since he'd properly touched anyone. He had  _never_  given flowers to a witch before. The idea of such a thing had always felt preposterous. Silly.

Silly. He felt silly now. He stripped off his pyjama trousers - he was shirtless - and stepped into his round piped shower. He turned it on, jolting at the sudden wrench of the cold water against his skin. He seethed through clenched teeth as the frigid water washed over him, and then as it warmed, he thought of her. As it grew hot, he thought more and more and more of her.

"Bella," he whispered desperately, feeling like he was drowning. She made him feel silly and desperate, and all he could do was bring her flowers and kiss her.

She was Rodolphus' wife, though she certainly didn't seem to want to be his wife. She seemed to want to be free of the boy. Did she want Voldemort instead? He'd never marry her, of course, but did she want his body? If he brought her here, would she want him to claim her in his bed and kiss her until sunrise?

He stood in the shower until it got cold again,and then he just shut the water off and yanked his pyjamas back on, crawling back into bed, determined to sleep.

* * *

"My Lord. Thank you for seeing me," Rodolphus said, and Voldemort gestured to the chair opposite him as Rodolphus came into the office. Rodolphus sat, yanking rather anxiously at his robes. He was doughy and short, Voldemort noticed again. He was an unattractive boy who looked like he'd had entirely too many pumpkin pasties. His face was still riddled with acne. Voldemort couldn't help wondering how it was that Bellatrix had ever crawled into bed with him in the first place.

"Bellatrix is unwell again," Rodolphus said plainly, and Voldemort scowled. He was certain that Rodolphus had come to discuss his brother Rabastan.

"What do you mean, she's unwell?" he asked tightly. Rodolphus sighed and shook his head.

"Last night, Master, I attempted to be…  _marital_ … with her, and she began shrieking and tried to hex me. I had to dose her with Anodyne Draught again. She's mad when it comes to -"

"How dare you?" Voldemort hissed, and Rodolphus' eyes went wide.

"My Lord?"

" _Crucio._ " Voldemort shook as he whipped his wand out and flicked it at Rodolphus, who hurtled backward off his chair and shrieked in agony for a solid five seconds on the ground. Voldemort broke the spell and tucked his wand away, and he asked in a low voice, "What were you thinking?"

"Master…" Rodolphus crawled toward the chair, trying to heave himself up. Voldemort waited in silence, and finally, as Rodolphus pulled himself up, he looked at the boy and whispered,

" _Legilimens._ "

' _Dolph, I told you, I'm not interested,' Bellatrix growled, shoving at Rodolphus beside her bed. He'd had a little too much to drink at the White Wyvern, and he'd come home determined to touch his wife._

' _I'm your husband, Bella,' he told her. He aimed his wand at her and said, 'Nongravidare Maxima. Nongravidare Tria. There. You can't get pregnant now. I can't get your pregnant now. Nongravidare Maxima. Nongravidare Tria.'_

' _Stop it!' Bellatrix pushed at Rodolphus' chest, but he bent to kiss her. She slapped him as hard as she could, and she screamed,_

' _Get away from me!'_

_She made a move for her wand, but Rodolphus already had his out, and he kept her away from the bedside table by squeezing her wrist roughly. He aimed his wand at her and muttered,_

' _Stupefy!'_

_She slammed down onto the bed with a flash of blue light, and he went to fetch the Anodyne Draught._

"Did you touch her when she was sleeping?" Voldemort yanked himself out of Rodolphus' mind and flew to his feet, feeling himself shake so badly he could hardly stand. He used his wand to burst out the window with a nonverbal  _Finestra,_  sending tiny shards of glass flying. "What did you do to her, Lestrange?"

"I just put into bed, Master," Rodolphus insisted.

"Get over here, Lestrange," Voldemort snarled. When Rodolphus hesitated, Voldemort hissed, "Too slow.  _Accio_ Son of a bitch Rodolphus Lestrange!"

He Summoned Rodolphus to him and slammed him down against the ground with another nonverbal spell.

" _Infecundens,_ " he incanted, dragging his wand down Rodolphus' length. "You stick your cock into a single witch without my permission, and I'll slice your cock off. You are to stay at your brother's house until I tell you otherwise. Get out of my office."

"B-But, My Lord…" Rodolphus moaned softly as he pulled himself up to stand, and he shook like mad. "How will I… who will take c-care of Bellatrix?"

"Leave that to me. Get out of my office. Now.  _Now!_  Are you deaf? Now you are. Now you're deaf.  _Surdi Tria!_ "

"MASTER! MASTER?" Rodolphus slammed his hands against his ears, and Voldemort stared right at him and shook his head. He pointed at the door, knowing he'd deafened Lestrange and made him impotent, and he mouthed carefully,  _Go._

* * *

"Hello." Minky the House-Elf was meek and quiet on the other side of the door. Voldemort said firmly,

"I need to come inside. I need to see your mistress."

"She's resting upstairs," Minky mumbled, and Voldemort nodded.

"I know." He moved past the House-Elf and moved briskly up the stairs, his robes swishing as he moved. He hurried into Bellatrix's butter yellow bedroom, and his breath caught.

He couldn't have even been bothered to tuck her under the blankets, Voldemort could see now. His eyes burned oddly at the sight of Bellatrix lying on her side atop the brocade quilt, at the way she was breathing so slowly. He moved over to her barefoot form, carefully moving her body around until he could arrange the blankets up around her.

"No! Get away, Dolph!" Suddenly she was sitting up, drugged and drowsy, and she tried and failed to grab her wand from the bedside table. Voldemort slowly moved her wand away and said in a gentle voice,

"It's me, Bella."

"Master?" She blinked slowly, staring at him, tipping her head. She smiled a little and whispered, "I'm dreaming."

He snorted a little laugh as he sat in the chair beside the bed. "No. It's just me."

"I'm so angry with him," Bellatrix whispered, and Rodolphus nodded.

"So am I." He scratched at his hair a little and admitted, "I made him impotent."

"You did?" Bellatrix's eyes went wide, then she seemed like she'd fall asleep again. She blinked her eyes open, and Voldemort told her,

"He came to see me. Said you were  _ill_. Unwell. But what he meant was that he wanted sex and you didn't, and so he drugged you. So I made him impotent, and I made him deaf, and I cast a Cruciatus Curse upon him."

"You tortured him for me," Bellatrix said softly, and Voldemort tried to keep his voice crisp as he said,

"I tortured him because he sinned against me."

But he knew she was right, and his chest ached at that thought.

"I wish you would kiss me again," Bellatrix drawled, and he shook his head where he sat.

"No. Not whilst you're drugged. If you want a kiss after you rest, then I shall kiss you."

"But you'll be gone by then, Master." Bellatrix's voice was just a little wisp now. Voldemort bent and pet her black curls, and he gulped hard as he brushed his lips very carefully along her temple and said, softly but confidently,

"I'm not going anywhere."

**Author's Note: Take that, Rodolphus! Please do leave a review if you get a quick moment. Thanks so very much.**


	6. Chapter 6

When Bellatrix blinked her eyes open, he was there, sitting in the butter yellow chair he'd Conjured many days earlier. He had reading glasses on, thick black ones, and he was reading a copy of the  _Daily Prophet._  He didn't seem to notice she'd awakened. The lamps were lit, for it had gone dark. Bellatrix's breath caught at the sight of him there, and suddenly he realised she was no longer sleeping. He folded his newspaper and set it aside, pulling his reading glasses off and tucking them into his robes. He flashed her a tiny smile and noted,

"You didn't try to hex me this time."

"He was awful, Master," Bellatrix said in a low voice,and Voldemort nodded gravely.

"I punished him, but I ought to have done worse. I'll do worse."

"He's your soldier, same as me," Bellatrix pointed out, but Voldemort shook his head.

"No, it's nothing the same." He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and he told her, "He's staying with Rabastan for the time being. I want you to write to me if you feel unsafe alone at any time. I can… erm… I don't know. Send your mother over to spend the nights or something."

"Oh, I'd much rather be alone than have her here." Bellatrix shook her head on her pillow. "She keeps telling me I murdered her grandchild."

Voldemort looked exceedingly frustrated, and he finally snapped, "Why is everyone behaving like children?"

"I'm sorry, My Lord," Bellatrix said, her stomach sinking, but he huffed,

"No, not you. People around you. It's irritating to me."

"Will you excuse me, please, Master?" Bellatrix asked, and when he nodded, she slid out of the bed, in desperate need of a toilet. After she relieved herself, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, feeling awfully groggy and dirty to be in front of her master. She came back out and found that he'd make up the bed, and she sat on the edge of it, facing him.

"You told me something when I was about to fall asleep," Bellatrix reminded him, wondering if she was remembering it correctly. She watched his cheeks go red, and she reckoned then that she was indeed remembering it correctly. She reached cautiously for his hand, and she recalled, "You said if I still wanted a kiss when I woke, you'd give me one."

"Mmm hmm." Voldemort flicked his eyes toward the lamp, then the window. Anywhere but her gaze. Bellatrix decided to push a little. She swallowed hard and whispered,

"I would still very much like a kiss, Master."

"All right." He snared the fingers of his right hand into her curls and just held her head in his hand for a moment. Then he bent a little and touched his forehead to hers, and Bellatrix breathed in the scent of him. Cinnamon, cedarwood, leather. Manly scents. He smelled clean and masculine. She liked it. She breathed in and out a few times, stroking on instinct at his arm and shoulder, and she heard him whisper,

"I became very angry at the thought of anyone taking you by force. I need to know if he… whether or not he…"

"I was sleeping," Bellatrix reminded him, "but there was no evidence of any foul act, if that's what you mean."

"That's what I mean," Voldemort nodded. "I saw none of that in his mind. Still. I was angry."

"Why?" Bellatrix raised her eyes to him, but he'd shut his own eyes, and he whispered,

"Because you make me plans beyond the capabilities of my other Death Eaters. And because you are young and beautiful, with a sharp wit and a keen intelligence. And because when I bring you black pansies, your dark eyes get this strange light within them. That's why."

"Oh." Bellatrix couldn't breathe then. All she could do was feel her eyes burning, and suddenly he was kissing her. His mouth was locked onto hers, his lips drawing against hers, his tongue thrusting inside of her mouth and dragging along the roof. Their tongues twined and licked, and he sucked at her in a way that made her moan.

She reached for his face, feeling a wet flush between her legs that Rodolphus had never once made her feel, and she held him as she leaned back a little. He followed her, coming onto the bed with her as she lay over the edge. He propped himself onto his arms, still standing, but she could feel his erection against her as their hips touched. He descended to his elbows and kissed her more firmly than ever, and after a long while, he pulled back and stroked her hair.

"Bella," he whispered, looking a little confused. She just panted where she lay, her breasts heaving a bit, and he brushed his knuckles over the swell of one of them. He bent down to kiss her cheek carefully, and She let out a little moan of want, pushing her hips up against the rigid firmness in Voldemort's robes.

Suddenly she heard the door downstairs open, and Minky's soft little voice greeting someone. Voldemort flew back off of her, his face angry as he yanked at his robes. Bellatrix gasped and sat up, far too quickly, and Voldemort squeezed her hand as he went walking quickly out of her room. She was confused as she watched him go until she heard his voice speaking with her father downstairs.

Her father was explaining in a stammer that Rodolphus had come to him and explained that he'd gotten himself into some trouble, that he was to stay at Rabastan's. Cygnus had brought a bag to come and stay with Bellatrix; he'd stay in the master since that was where Rodolphus had been staying. That did not seem to make Lord Voldemort particularly happy; Bellatrix could hear the bite in his tone, but he thanked Cygnus just the same and then seemed to leave.

Bellatrix could taste him for hours.

* * *

_My Lord,_

_Thank you for getting me notes from your meeting with Rookwood. I appreciate you following up with him about my idea for a Mudblood master list. I am so grateful that you found my idea worthy of pursuing. I look forward to Rookwood getting you the list so that we can begin to truly wreak havoc on the lives of Mudbloods in the country._

_Your servant,_

_Bellatrix._

* * *

_Bella,_

_Well, it was a good idea. That's why I followed up on it._

_You've got less than one week more of being trapped in your house. I trust your father has been amicable company._

_L.V._

* * *

_No, Master, He has not. Please save me. Yours, Bellatrix_

* * *

_I'll be there tonight._

* * *

Bellatrix held the last letter that she'd received from Lord Voldemort, watching the owl fly away out the open window. She shut the window and read the brief little note again.  _I'll be there tonight._ That was all it said. No more, no less.

"Bella?"

She jolted at the sound of Rodolphus' voice, and she snatched her wand as she stomped out of the downstairs sitting room. She scowled as he walked in the front door in the drizzling rain, and he gave her a serious look.

"I've come to talk," he said, and she warned him,

"The Dark Lord is going to be here soon. You'd best talk quickly."

"Please, will you lower your wand?" Rodolphus asked, taking his outer cloak off and dropping it. Minky scrambled to pick it up, and Rodolphus came into the sitting room. Bellatrix finally lowered her wand but kept it out, unwilling to tuck it away.

"You Stunned me," she said angrily. "You drugged me."

"You seemed volatile," Rodolphus insisted, sitting on the sofa. Bellatrix frowned as she sat opposite him and insisted,

"I do not wish to be intimate anymore. If you want to divorce me over that, then -"

"You know perfectly well that a divorce would ruin both of us in the Pureblood world," Rodolphus snapped. Bellatrix let out a shaking sigh. Rodolphus threw his hands up, and he said, "Look. I understand. You had a terrible experience. You almost died. And it turned you off sex in general."

Bellatrix thought of how the Dark Lord's kiss had stoked a fire inside of her, the way he'd spoken of Healers performing surgery, and she wanted to tell Rodolphus that perhaps she'd only been put off sex with  _him_. But she stayed quiet. Rodolphus continued,

"I've spoken with Rabastan. He can't quite afford his flat. He overbought, you understand; he's got this giant three-bedroom place in Westminster. So lovely, but so expensive. So I told him… you know, with me having more money, I'm willing to pay him rent for one of the bedrooms and bathrooms."

"You're going to move out and be roommates with your brother?" Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, and Rodolphus shrugged.

"Would you object to keeping this place for yourself? Obviously, I'll still own it. I can still come whenever I'd like, but you… you'll have more privacy. You can take the master suite back, if you'd like. Keep Minky here for you. Surely you don't object."

He eyed the preserved black pansies on the low table between them, and when he raised his gaze to Bellatrix, he gave her a meaningful look, and she knew that he knew. She just nodded.

"Fine."

There was a knock on the front door then, and Rodolphus shut his eyes, seeming very afraid all of a sudden. Well, Bellatrix thought, she could hardly blame him. Voldemort had tortured him just a few days earlier. He rose and said in a voice full of dread,

"That's my cue."

Minky opened the door, and the Dark Lord came striding inside.

"Rodolphus," he said tightly. "I thought I told you to -"

"He's just come to tell me that he's permanently moving into Rabastan's flat, Master," Bellatrix said, and Rodolphus gave her a grateful look. Voldemort nodded crisply.

"Good day, then." He was holding a cardboard box in his hands, and he stepped aside as Rodolphus put his outer robe back on, tipped his wizarding fedora at Bellatrix, and bowed to Voldemort. He headed out, and once he'd gone, Voldemort approached Bellatrix and held out the cardboard box in his hands. He smirked. "Care to have another go at a Cauldron Cake?"

**Author's Note: Na na na na. Na na na na. Hey, hey, hey. Goodbye, Rodolphus. For now. Sort of. LOL. Also, tiny hints of a lemon in this chapter… will we get more in the next one? Mwah hahaha. Thanks as always for reading and a HUGE thank you for all feedback.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Mmph! My Lord!"

His mouth fell open as he watched her eat a bite of Cauldron Cake. It was, without a doubt, the most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. They were sitting at her dining room table, for she'd wanted to eat it  _properly_ , on a china plate with a fork and knife and a glass of sweet red wine.

Voldemort dragged his finger over the rim of his own red wine, and his heart started to speed up in his chest. He tried to swallow, but there was something blocking his throat. He wouldn't have been able to identify it. Some sort of mass, some sort of blockage was keeping him from gulping. He tried again and finally washed it away with a swig of wine.

"This is  _so good_ ," Bellatrix moaned. She dug her fork into the chocolate sponge cake with its liquid fudge in the middle and orange frosting on the top, and when she shut her eyes, Voldemort let out an involuntary little noise. He started to go hard in the trousers he wore beneath his robes, and he whispered,

"I'm glad you like it."

"I have to share!" Bellatrix exclaimed, opening her eyes. Voldemort shook his head and sipped his wine, and he insisted,

"No. I… I got it for you."

"You don't like Cauldron Cakes, Master?" she asked, and he sighed.

"I do. But that one's yours. In any case, I hardly need cake. A man my age has to watch what he eats, you know."

She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. "You're hardly plump, Master. Please, take a bite, or I'll feel terribly guilty."

She picked up her plate and stood, and she came prancing round the large, rectangular table in the sky blue dining room. She dashed up to Voldemort, and his breath hitched as she sank her fork into the cake again. She held it out to him, urging him to take it. He just stared up at her and shook his head a little. This felt so intimate. Too intimate. Her playful smile started to disappear, and for a moment, she seemed a little afraid. She dragged her top teeth over her bottom lip and finally whispered,

"It's really good."

He finally reached up and took the fork out of her hand, staring at her as he slipped it between his lips. He savoured the slightly bitter chocolate, the overwhelming sweet of the frosting, and he managed to swallow this time. He handed the fork back to Bellatrix, and he watched as she took another bite of the Cauldron Cake. He went harder than ever in his trousers, pushing his chair back a little, and Bellatrix seemed to realise that he wanted her. Her dark eyes were heavily lidded just now, as though she'd grown fatigued all of a sudden. Her fingers shook around the fork as she dug it into the last bit of cake, and she held it out to Voldemort.

"It's the last bite," she whispered, "My Lord. Master."

"I… you should have it," he told her firmly, but she shook her head and informed him,

"All that I am and all that I have is yours. Master."

"Bella." He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he licked his lip and decided to go all in. "We'll share it. You eat it, and I'll taste it on you."

She looked shocked by that, but she put the bite into her mouth and then set the empty cauldron container and fork down on the table. She chewed and swallowed, and Voldemort swigged down the last of his red wine. She came near him, approaching his chair, and then she boldly leaned down and kissed him. He licked at her lips, tasting chocolate, and he groaned a little. She opened her mouth, and when he licked at the roof of her mouth, she was sweet. He seized her face in his hand and put his other hand at the small of her back, urging her down onto him. She was wearing leggings and a tunic today, so it was easy for her to move, and she did move.

She straddled him and kissed him so hard that their teeth clacked together a little bit. He didn't mind. She didn't seem to mind. She sucked on his tongue a bit, and he stroked at her back and played with her hair. She tasted good, he thought. Sweet wine and sweet sugar. Chocolate.

"Bellatrix." He wrenched his mouth away from hers, feeling desperate. His cock hurt. He was so hard that his cock hurt. He wanted to bury himself to the hilt inside of her, but he knew better. She was married, and she didn't want sex, and he…

"Bella." He tipped his head back a little, and suddenly Bellatrix had buried her face into his neck and was whining helplessly,

"I want you. I want you."

"Hmmm…" He pet her hair and kissed her cheek, and he whispered, "I will do nothing that you'll regret."

She squirmed on him and he hissed loudly, for his cock was aching and throbbing and in serious need of relief.

"Bellatrix, be careful," he scolded her. "You're going to make me… mmph.  _Oh_."

She was moving purposefully now, grinding herself hard against his erection, panting against his neck, and he realised she was just as close to coming as he was. Well, he thought, if this was how they found release today, fine. He didn't mind. She didn't seem to mind.

"Bella." He pulled her face back and kissed her hard enough that neither of them could really breathe. They didn't mind that, either. His right hand cupped her breast and squeezed, and his left hand went to her waist, dragging her forward and down against his hardened cock.

"Ahhh!  _Ahhh!_ " Bellatrix yanked her lips away and threw her head back, and Voldemort watched in wonder as a red web of arousal spread down her neck. Her arms shook around his shoulders, and he realised she was coming. She was finishing right there on his lap. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He was so dizzy, sitting there watching her, and his thumb stilled on her breast. Her nipple pressed eagerly through her thin bra and tunic, and he stroked it as she came, squeezing her waist at the same time.

"Bella," he whispered, and her eyes shut as a little choked sound came from between her full lips. Suddenly he gasped and felt come leaping out inside his trousers, spilling inside the material, making an enormous mess. He whispered frantically,

"Off. You have to… it could leak through."

"What? Oh.  _Oh._ " She practically jumped off of his lap then, and she panted, "Thank you for warning me, Master."

He just nodded, sitting there with his eyes shut as the heat in his ears abated. His fingers shook as he pulled out his wand and aimed it between his legs, muttering,

" _Tergeo. Scourgify._ "

The mess of his come was cleaned up then, and he tucked his wand away, keeping his eyes shut for another very long moment. He heard Bellatrix muttering emergency contraceptive spells. Just in case, he knew. She'd be perfectly fine; he had three layers of robes on and she had leggings and knickers. Still, he could hear the slight panic in her voice as she incanted the spells.

He finally opened his eyes and turned his gaze to Bellatrix, and she asked fearfully,

"Are you angry with me, My Lord?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Angry?"

"Are you going to Obliviate me?" she asked, and he frowned, shaking his head.

"No."

She curled up the sides of her lips then and whispered, "Thank you, Master. For the Cauldron Cake."

"I thought you might want… something sweet…" Voldemort turned his eyes away, and Bellatrix called,

"Minky!"

The House-Elf appeared at once and cleaned up the mess of the little empty cauldron, the fork, and the two wine glasses. Once the elf had gone, Voldemort rose and told Bellatrix,

"I should go."

"All right," she said softly. They headed for the front door, and when they got there, Voldemort asked,

"What did you mean by  _tripping_?"

"Master?" Bellatrix seemed confused, and Voldemort clarified,

"Step Six in your Ten Step Plan for Intimidating Mudbloods. Tripping. You didn't explain it very much, and… some were confused. I said I thought you meant tripping people in passing with an outstretched foot, but…"

" _Sublabo_ ," Bellatrix said simply, "If you can manage it nonverbally, wandlessly or with a surreptitious wand movement."

"Ah. A carefully administered Trip Jinx. That makes more sense."

"An outstretched foot works, too," Bellatrix smirked, and Voldemort tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Our next meeting is a week from today. If the Healers clear you, I expect you there."

"I'll be there, Master," Bellatrix said very confidently.

"With the Healers' permission," he said just as firmly, and she tipped her head, giving a conciliatory nod.

"Yes, Master."

He paused for a long moment by the door, and then finally he asked, "Shall I visit you again soon?"

Her eyes welled a little. "Yes, please."

He cleared and throat. "Does a certain date or time suit you?"

She grinned. "Any date. Any time."

He nodded and said quietly, "Tomorrow, then. I'll let the time be a surprise."

Her eyes went wide, and she laughed a little, but he bent and planted a swift kiss on her cheek and said,

"Goodbye, Bella."

Once he'd opened the door, he heard her say from behind him,

"Goodbye, My Lord."

**Author's Note: Yum, yum. Who's in the mood for Cauldron Cake now? LOL. Thanks for reading and THANK YOU for reviewing.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Mum. Erm… what are you doing here?" Bellatrix asked as Minky shut the door. Druella Black tipped her chin up and said imperiously,

"I've come to check on you, darling. Rodolphus came to the house this morning. He and Daddy talked through everything."

"Oh, they did, did they?" Bellatrix kept her face stoic. She did not offer Druella tea, but of course Druella snapped,

"Minky. Tea. In the sitting room."

Bellatrix cleared her throat and rolled her eyes as she followed her mother into the parlour. The two of them sat at a small wooden table near the window, and soon enough Minky came toddling in with a tea cart. Druella made herself up a cup of rose tea and then set the cup and saucer before her.

"You are withholding relations from your husband," she said in a biting tone. "That renders your wedding vows void."

"Yes, well. He's taken whores." Bellatrix brewed up some oolong, accelerating the process with her wand, and she shrugged. "I don't think either of us is particularly anxious to know the other's genitals very well."

"You disgust me." Druella sipped from her teacup and glanced out the window to where Muggles were passing on the sidewalk, where black cabs were driving by. She sniffed and said, "You must remain married. A divorce would shame both the Black and Lestrange families and would be entirely unacceptable."

"We're aware, Mummy." Bellatrix sipped her oolong and sighed, slumping back in her chair ungracefully. Druella scowled and said,

"Sit up, Bellatrix. Your posture has always been a shambles."

"I'm fine like this," Bellatrix insisted. Druella shook her head and set her cup down with a little clatter.

"No respect for anyone or anything," she snarled. "No respect for your mother. No respect for your husband. No respect for your child's life, or for -"

"I had no child," Bellatrix insisted, and Druella scoffed loudly. "Yes, you did. You murdered the poor thing."

"Shut up, you old hag!" Bellatrix whipped her wand out and flew to her feet, tipping over her cup of tea. Druella looked utterly shocked as Bellatrix aimed her wand at her mother's face. Bellatrix's right hand shook, and she whispered, "Take it back."

"Take  _what_  back?" Druella's eyes welled heavily, and Bellatrix said,

"All the times you've accused me of killing a child. I didn't kill a child; I saved my own life. I begged them. I pleaded with them, with the Healers. They said there was no other way. That I was dying. Would you rather I'd have died? There was never going to be a child; I'd have died long before it was born. Can't you see that? I had no choice! And it'll never happen again. So Dolph can stick his cock where he likes, but not in me."

"You are vile," Druella said, shaking her head and slowly rising. She lowered Bellatrix's wand with her hand and said, "It was a mistake to come here. The Dark Lord was right; I ought not be visiting you when you're like this."

"Like  _what_?" Bellatrix growled, and Druella just scoffed again, stomping away from the little table. She stomped all the way to the front door, getting there before Minky could let her out, and she left without saying goodbye.

* * *

Bellatrix was sitting in the sunny, small library at the back of the house, facing the garden, when there was a little knock on the threshold leading into the room. She set down her copy of  _Yarrai the Innocent_  and flew to her feet, breathing,

"My Lord!"

"Minky let me in," he nodded. He held out a bouquet of black pansies and told her, "I think your house is starting to become overrun with these."

"I don't mind," she smiled. She had a cream-coloured bone china pitcher on a side table here in the library, and she filled it with water from her wand and put the flowers in. She Preserved them with a charm and grinned at Voldemort. "Thank you, Master."

"I heard your mother came this morning," he said carefully, stepping into the library and sitting on the bench in the bright bay window. "I heard it didn't go too terribly well."

Bellatrix sighed. "Who told you?"

"Your father," he said. "Well. He tried to tell me. His stammer's particularly bad when he's anxious. I finally got it out of him through Legilimency, but I got your mother's side of things. Something tells me you didn't  _jab your wand into her throat for no reason_."

Bellatrix let out a bitter little laugh and shook her head.

"I lost my temper," she admitted. "Took my wand out, called her a hag."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "An  _old_  hag, from what I understand. What did she say to prompt that?"

Bellatrix shut her eyes, and they seared like fire. "She said… that I… murdered my child."

"There was never going to be a child," Voldemort said in a clip. "You'd have died long before any child reached viability. I reminded your father of that; I'm sure you reminded your mother."

"I did," Bellatrix said, sitting back down on the padded bench opposite him. She shelved the book she'd been reading in the slot behind her and folded her hands over her black skirt. She shook her head and told him, "She was also cross with me about Rodolphus. Said I have no respect for my husband."

"Ah. The husband who attempted to be physical with you even as you said the word  _no_ , as you shoved him away? The husband who Stunned and drugged you for denying him sex? That husband?" Voldemort seemed oddly affected as he spoke, and his throat bobbed when he turned his face to stare at some books. He pursed his lips, furrowed his brows, and said sharply, "I do wish… I just rather wish your family and your husband would listen a little more. You have reasons for being afraid, and not all of them are irrational. You have reasons for being angry."

Bellatrix nodded, feeling suddenly like she might cry. She said in a shaking voice, "I just don't want to ever be pregnant again, My Lord. It haunts me, the idea of it. It gives me nightmares. It makes me shake. I don't want to be with Rodolphus, or any man, in that way, because all I'll be able to imagine is the tiniest, minute possibility that I -"

"Bellatrix." Voldemort turned his face to her, and she just nodded a little. He licked his lip carefully and said, "You were a Slytherin. You are a Death Eater. So do not tell me now what you fear. Do not tell me what you wish to avoid. Tell me, Bella, what you  _want_."

Her mouth fell open, and she whispered, "What I want?"

"Yes." He reached for her hand and stroked at her fingers, and he said seriously, "Tell me what it is that you do want, and I will give it to you. Well. I will do my best."

She felt ashamed then, her cheeks going very hot. She squeezed at his fingers a little and wrenched her eyes shut, and she murmured,

"I want… oh. I, erm, I want to watch."

There was silence, and she expected that when she opened her eyes, she'd see him laughing at her. But he was very serious indeed, and he nodded as he said,

"You want to be far enough away from the seed that it can't harm you. Is that it?"

"Yes. Yes." Someone understood! Bellatrix sat up straighter and nodded. He understood! She smiled a little, and he started to pull her hand toward him. She leaned forward, feeling her eyes go round, and he asked gently,

"Will you help me get ready?"

"I'll try." She was breathless then, and it took all the strength she had to drag her fingers around his crotch. He shut his eyes for a moment, his breath starting to quicken as she played with the place where his cock was. Soon his breath came shaking between his lips, and he whispered,

"Bella."

He made a move for the placket of his trousers, unbuttoning them slowly, and Bellatrix yanked her hand away. Suddenly her arousal, the bit of throbbing between her legs that had begun, evaporated. She began to panic as she watched him start to pull his erect cock out, and she cried,

"No!"

She flew to her feet and shook her head, and he stared up at her. Bellatrix clapped her hands to her mouth and began to sob, shaking hard where she stood.

"Please put it away," she whispered, and Voldemort rushed to shove his member back into his trousers and button them back up. His cheekbones went red, and Bellatrix felt humiliated and guilty as he slowly stood, adjusting his robes.

"I'm sorry!" she cried shrilly, tears streaming down her face. She was shaking so hard she thought she'd fall, but he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Master. Oh, My Lord. Please don't punish me. Please. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Bella," he whispered, but she shook her head and kept muttering,

"I'm so sorry. I can't. I'm not ready. I'm just still afraid of… I'm sorry."

"Bellatrix." He pulled her face back and met her eyes, and he was blurry through her tears as she stared up at him, holding his forearms as she whispered frantically,

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Master. Master, please; I'm sorry."

"I will hear no further apology," he ordered her sharply. His hands tightened on her cheeks a bit. "This is my command. You will  _never_ apologise again for this. Not ever. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," she whimpered, but her crying was swallowed up by a careful delicate kiss that she urged into something deeper, something soothing, something particularly helpful. She kissed him for so long that the sun started to go down, and eventually her lips started to feel bruised, and Voldemort pulled away and informed her,

"I'm staying for dinner."

She nodded, her tears long gone by then. "Yes, Master."

**Author's Note: *swoon* Voldemort, Dream Guy. LOL. Next up, Bellatrix's first Death Eater meeting since her terrible illness… and Rodolphus will be there. Also, raise your hand if you absolutely despise Druella in this one. Haha.**


	9. Chapter 9

"My friends. We have among us one today who has not joined us for some time," Voldemort said. He turned his face and smiled a little, and her name rolled off his mouth like the breath he needed to survive. "Bellatrix."

She grinned and nodded. "I am glad to be back, Master. Thank you."

He saw her flick her eyes to her husband, who was eyeing her almost hungrily. Voldemort scowled and peered into Rodolphus' mind with nonverbal Legilimency, and he saw that the boy was trying to think of ways to win Bellatrix's affections back, ways to get her back into a bed with him. Voldemort pursed his lips, his good mood gone, and he swallowed hard.

"Who here has been working on their intimidation tactics?" he asked sharply. Abraxas Malfoy's hand went up at once, and he said,

"Yesterday in Diagon Alley, Master, I told Orchid Allan, a Mudblood witch, that she was fat."

The others laughed uproariously, and Voldemort cocked an eyebrow.

"What were the circumstances?"

"She was eating ice cream outside Florean Fortescue's," Malfoy said, "and I said simply,  _You hardly need that, Orchid, you fat swine._  Then I just kept walking."

Voldemort waited for the laughter to die down, and then he nodded at Mulciber, who said,

"I used the Trip Jinx like you said, My Lord. I tripped Jedediah Morrow in the Leaky Cauldron. He wound up with spilt Butterbeer all over him, and the whole place laughed."

"This is not intimidation; this is mockery," Voldemort said in a frustrated voice. He huffed a sigh and asked Bellatrix, "Better examples, if you please?"

Bellatrix nodded and looked to Abraxas Malfoy. "Instead of calling Orchid Allan fat, you might have said something like,  _Are you certain you want to eat that? You never know what sorts of potions make their way into ice cream recipes._ That way, she'd be afraid she was being poisoned."

"Ah." Abraxas nodded, his face going pink. "Yes. That… that does make sense."

"And you, Mr Mulciber," Bellatrix said, "You might have timed your tripping of Jedediah Morrow such that the man injured himself. Have him fall into a chair, or down a flight of stairs."

"Oh." Mulciber seemed embarrassed. Voldemort rolled his eyes and said,

"Bella, walk us through your plan one step at a time, will you?"

She did, explaining the difference between mere mockery and frightening intimidation that wouldn't lead directly to arrest. All the while, as she spoke, Voldemort stared at Rodolphus, who was staring at Bellatrix. The boy's eyes were enraptured. He blinked quickly a few times, and finally Voldemort peered back into his mind with nonverbal Legilimency.

_She is so beautiful. So intelligent. She is my wife. I will make her mine again. She is mine. I will make her adore me. She is so brilliant, so lovely. I care for her so deeply, and she is mine, and I will make her care for me in return._

Voldemort yanked himself out of Rodolphus' mind and stared at where he had his hands folded on the table. After Bellatrix had finished walking everyone through the Mudblood intimidation plan, he said sharply,

"No more games. This is serious. This is war. Soon enough we'll be killing them. Get to work. Dismissed."

The room began to disperse, and Bellatrix eyed Voldemort for a long moment before she rose. He stared at her but kept his face completely impassive. Rodolphus came over to her chair, and Bellatrix flinched when he reached for her hand.

"May we go for a walk?" Rodolphus asked, and Bellatrix just nodded silently. Voldemort felt an odd pull in his chest as she left the room with Rodolphus, and just before the two of them were gone, he barked,

"Bellatrix, come to my office before you go home."

She turned around, looking grateful and relieved. "Yes, Master."

* * *

Voldemort had never gotten drunk this quickly in his life. He'd downed four gin and tonics in an hour, and he was feeling every one of them. He wasn't staggeringly drunk, just tipsy, since he was a tall and broad man, but it was still enough to make his head swim. He had knocked back the drinks because he'd known that Bellatrix was off with her husband, off with the man she'd married in a fluffy white gown. Voldemort remembered. He'd been there. He'd seen the two of them dancing.

He hadn't cared then.

He cared now.

He'd downed one drink after another, trying to wash away the taste of her from his lips and failing. He could still taste her from days earlier, and it seemed like the sweetness would never go away. She was so brilliant, he thought as he sipped gin. Rodolphus had thought that, and he'd been right. She was beautiful. Rodolphus had thought that, too, and he'd been right about that, as well.

"Bellatrix." He shut his eyes and then jolted at the sound of knocking on his office door. "Enter!"

His heart raced as the door opened, for he expected it to be her. But he scowled when he saw Abraxas Malfoy standing there, and he snapped,

"What do you want?"

"Forgive me, Master," Malfoy said, bowing at the door, "but Madam Lestrange wanted me to let you know that she felt rather ill and needed to go home immediately."

"What?" Voldemort wondered if he was more drunk than he'd thought, for he was so dizzy that he had to lean onto his desk. "What was wrong with her?"

"She didn't say, sir," Malfoy admitted. "It was actually Rodolphus Lestrange; he said he was taking her home and that she wanted you to know she was feeling ill."

"That bastard." Voldemort stormed toward the office door, shoving Malfoy roughly out of the way, and when he got out into the corridor, he snarled, "Only send me an owl if it's an emergency."

Then he Disapparated and came to outside the Lestrange townhouse in London. He charged up to the door and banged roughly on it with his fist, and he kept banging until the door swung slowly open and Minky stood down below him. The House-Elf stared up at him as if he was very rude, and Voldemort shoved his way into the house.

"Bella?" he called. "Lestrange, where are you?"

"Master?" Rodolphus appeared at the top of the stairs and immediately came rushing down. "Master, she got very weak. She said she felt faint. I brought her back her by Side-Along. She was distraught about not going to your office, but…"

"Oh." Voldemort nodded, feeling rather foolish now. He nodded crisply at Rodolphus and said, "You may go; I'll take it from here."

Rodolphus frowned, confused, and shook his head. "I beg your pardon, My Lord?"

Voldemort blinked a few times. What had he just said? He wasn't Bellatrix's husband; Rodolphus was. Voldemort cleared his throat, and Rodolphus insisted,

"I have her sipping broth, Master, with a few drops of Pepperup Potion. Just to get her strength up."

"Oh. Erm… yes, of course. I think I'll just go speak with her briefly. If you'll give us a moment," Voldemort nodded, and Rodolphus bowed his head.

"Master."

Voldemort headed up the stairs, unsteady on his feet as the alcohol settled into his veins, and when he came to the master suite where Bellatrix had moved again, he paused at the doorway.

She was so beautiful, sitting propped up in the bed in a nightgown, cupping a mug in her hands and staring out the window. She finally saw him, and she whispered,

"I'm sorry. I felt like I was going to faint."

"Why is that?" Voldemort asked, sauntering into her room and sitting on the edge of her bed. Bellatrix frowned and asked,

"Forgive me, My Lord, but have you… have you been -"

"Drinking? Yes. Why did you feel faint?" He picked at the blanket, and Bellatrix hesitated. Finally she mumbled,

"I thought he was going to touch me again, but he didn't."

Voldemort nodded and pulled out his wand. He gulped hard and admitted,

"I am not a Healer, and I am also intoxicated, so I am not qualified to do this, but I am going to do it anyway."

"Do what?" Bellatrix yanked her blankets up, but Voldemort aimed his wand right at her and met her eyes. He gnawed at his lip and asked her,

"Are you very certain, Bellatrix Lestrange, that you  _never_  want to be pregnant again? Not ever?"

"I am more certain of it than just about anything, except for my devotion to you," she replied, and that was all he needed to hear. He sighed and slashed his wand, incanting,

" _Ventris Evanesca._ "

Bellatrix gasped, making a little horrified sort of sound, and then suddenly her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. She grinned and grasped at her lower abdomen. Her eyes welled up, and she asked,

"Did you… did you just…"

"Vanish you uterus? Yes." Voldemort nodded, tucking his wand away, and he said rather bitterly, "You can be physical with Rodolphus now."

She ignored that. She scrambled toward him on the bed, nearly spilling her broth as she set it aside. She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, which made his breath hitch, and she whispered,

"Thank you.  _Thank you_. Master. Oh, thank you."

"It was nothing," he insisted, but then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her back, and it felt rather like it had been everything. He wanted her. He wanted her  _right now_. He had to leave. Rodolphus was downstairs.

"Bella," he whispered, and she finally pulled herself away and nodded. Her cheeks were dark pink, and he stroked at them with his knuckles as he murmured, "Someday you'll want it from someone."

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded and studied his face, his chest, his neck, his hair. He looked away self-consciously and told her,

"You did well at the meeting. You made me proud. Like always."

"Thank you, Master," she whispered. "For everything."

"Drink that broth, Bella," he told her. "You've just had surgery. Heal up."

Then he rose and walked briskly from the room, trotting down the stairs and approaching Rodolphus in the foyer. Rodolphus gave him a weak little smile and asked,

"Is she all right?"

"Better than ever," Voldemort said truthfully. "Good day, Lestrange."

**Author's Note: If you've read the Troublemaker series, you know that Vanishing uteruses isn't a new idea, except that here it's a notion very welcomed by both parties, which** _ **is**_   **new. Now that Bellatrix knows for sure that she can't get pregnant (bye-bye, canon?), will she give in to the simmering lust between herself and Voldemort? Thanks for reading. If you get a moment, PLEASE leave a quick review. Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Madam Bellatrix, Madam."

Bellatrix looked up from her book and frowned. "What is it, Minky?"

"You have a visitor, Madam." Minky twined her hands together, and Bellatrix sat up straighter, staring at the clock on the wall. Midnight. She scowled.

"Who is it?" she demanded, fearing it was her mother or father. But Minky said,

"It is Lord Voldemort, Madam."

Bellatrix gasped, aiming her wand at her mouth and Scouring herself there and beneath her arms. She felt fresh then, and she told Minky,

"Show him in, Minky."

Bellatrix could hardly breathe as she waited, and when he appeared in her doorway, she sat up a little more and nodded, bowing her head reverently.

"Master."

"I apologise for the very late hour," Voldemort said in a low voice. "I had intended on visiting earlier, and then my meeting with Avery ran long, and I… still wanted to come."

Bellatrix smiled a little at that, and she raised her eyes to him as he sat in the chair beside her bed. He sighed and asked her,

"Were you sleeping? I shouldn't have come."

"No, Master. I… I was reading." She gestured to her copy of  _Yarrai the Innocent_  and then informed him, "Healer Savery came for a check-up this morning. I had to tell him… I had to tell him what you did. I'm sorry."

"Oh. I suppose Vanishing an organ is pertinent medical information," Voldemort shrugged. "Was he quite cross?"

Bellatrix snorted a little laugh and shook her head. "I think he knows much better than to be cross with you, My Lord. But, as it turns out, you performed rather significant magical surgery on me."

"Ah. Well, apologies for being so haphazard about it," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix insisted,

"Healer Savery says it was expertly done. He cleaned up a bit of the tissue surrounding the uterus… I don't know. He did a procedure. But he says I have to stay in bed and move as little as possible for five days. I do apologise if there's a meeting. He says that too much movement could muck up all my other organs and cause strains and whatnot."

"Oh." Voldemort looked guilt-stricken, and he murmured, "It wasn't my intention to render you bedridden again."

"But you have freed me," Bellatrix said, "and I fought you tooth and nail on the idea of it. So it is best that you came here just a little drunk and Vanished an organ, My Lord."

He smirked and shook his head a bit. Bellatrix stared out the window at the darkness and said more seriously,

"Rodolphus says now I can be his wife again. My concerns are gone now, he says."

"Oh, is that what he says?" Voldemort asked with a bite in his tone. Bellatrix just nodded. Voldemort huffed a sigh and changed the subject.

"My meeting with Avery was regarding the fact that he accidentally killed a Mudblood."

Bellatrix grinned suddenly, amused. "Accidentally, Master?"

"Yes." He gave her a little smile and said, "He took your advice about tripping a Mudblood down a flight of stairs. Only problem was, he chose a witch who was ninety-three."

"Oh, no." Bellatrix began to giggle, and Voldemort couldn't seem to help laughing as he said sarcastically,

"Bless and rest Louvinia Warren. She tripped down the stairs in the Leaky Cauldron and broke her neck. It looked to bystanders like someone pushed her, and someone -  _someone_ \- was heard shouting the words,  _Farewell, Mudblood!_  as a crowd gathered round her body. But seeing as how Avery was Transfigured…"

"Oh, brilliant!" Bellatrix smiled broadly at Voldemort and said sincerely, "That's bloody brilliant, Master."

"Yes. I rewarded Avery with five thousand Galleons and sent owls to the others letting them know what happened. I thought I'd tell you in person."

Bellatrix reached instinctively for his hand then, and she was shocked at herself for doing so. She was even more shocked when he rubbed his thumb over hers and whispered,

"All night, I've wanted to be here."

"Oh." Bellatrix couldn't say much more than that. She shut her eyes and soaked in the feel of him touching her hand, and she mumbled, "I want to apologise for what I did in the library. Screaming at you."

"I distinctly ordered you never to apologise again for that, Bellatrix," Voldemort snapped, and his hand stilled. Bellatrix opened her eyes, and his throat visibly bobbed as he told her, "Someday, you'll feel ready to see and handle and perhaps even take a man's anatomy, but there is no one rushing you through… well… perhaps your husband is trying to rush you, but I certainly am not."

Suddenly Bellatrix felt very confused, and she asked him seriously, "What is this, My Lord?"

"This?" he repeated dryly, pulling his hand back a little. He looked away and shrugged. "It is an affair. Nothing more, nothing less. What did you think it was?"  
Bellatrix didn't answer that question. Instead she pondered, "When a wizard keeps a witch in an affair, she is called a mistress. But what is the equivalent for a wizard in a similar situation?"

"In your particular situation, you are my married servant, and I am your master," Voldemort snarled, and Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he just sighed and licked his lip as he said,

"Someday, Bella, you'll want a man, and it probably won't be Rodolphus. But first, long before you want a man's parts, you should probably let a man touch you without reciprocation. I suspect that would be a good… you seem confused."

"What sort of touching did you have in mind, Master?" Bellatrix asked, furrowing her brows, and Voldemort's own eyebrows flew up.

" _That_ sort of touching," he said. "The same sort of touching you do to yourself."

Bellatrix's jaw dropped. "A wizard might touch me in the same way that I…"

Her cheeks went hot at the thought of that, and Voldemort scowled.

"Sorry," he said in a clip, clearing his throat, "but has Rodolphus never used his fingers to give you any semblance of pleasure?"

"No, Master," Bellatrix admitted, and Voldemort scoffed loudly.

"Foolish child," he sneered. "Idiot boy. I don't suppose his mouth ever came into the picture."

"His  _mouth_?" Bellatrix felt mildly scandalised. She shook her head. "All that ever happened was that he used a lubrication charm on me, climbed on top of me and moved a little with it inside of me, and then he'd finish and that was that."

"What? No." Voldemort scratched his hair and shook his head. "That's… sex is not really meant to be like that."

"What's it meant to be like?" Bellatrix asked curiously, and he turned up half his mouth.

"Perhaps I'll show you someday. Someday when you're ready. But for now, I can't even touch you, because you're healing up from what I didn't quite realise was major surgery."

"Oh. Well, now I'm frustrated," Bellatrix said, squirming a little and feeling wet between her legs. She was warm and tingling, and she whispered, "I feel… different from usual in the presence of a man, I suppose."

"Hmm." Voldemort seemed pleased about that, and he threw up an eyebrow. He started to strip off his outer robe, throwing it over the back of the chair, and Bellatrix asked frantically,

"What… what are you doing, Master?"

"I'd like to hold you," he said simply, "if you'll permit it."

"Yes, please," she blurted immediately. Voldemort curled up the left side of his mouth and loosened his tie. He pulled it off and unbuttoned his sleeved and the first two buttons of his shirt. He kicked off his shoes, and he came around the far side of the bed. He climbed beneath the blankets and slithered toward Bellatrix. She lay down on her back, and then she turned away from Voldemort. She felt him wrap one arm around her, felt the slight push of his mild erection at the small of her back, and she whispered,

"Master…"

"Bella." He moved her braided curls and kissed the spot beneath her ear, and he mumbled again,

"All night I've wanted to be here."

Bellatrix tried to answer, but she couldn't. She had fallen fast asleep before her mind could formulate a coherent thought.

* * *

In the morning, when Bellatrix woke, he was gone, which didn't surprise her. But what did surprise her was that he'd been replaced in her bed by a bouquet of black pansies and a little note card in his neat script that read,

_Good morning. No need to Preserve these; you'll be receiving more. - LV_

**Author's Note: Oh, Lord Voldemort. Celebrating and giggling about the death of an elderly Muggle-born, explaining mutually satisfactory sex to Bellatrix, and spooning and leaving flowers. He's a complicated guy. Thanks as always for reading and a HUGE thank you for leaving feedback.**


	11. Chapter 11

Voldemort strode past Minky, clutching a bouquet of black pansies, and smiled a little as he climbed the stairs of the Lestrange townhouse. It was mid-afternoon, and he'd meant to come earlier, but he'd had a long meeting with Cygnus Black and Ellerby Selwyn about funding. No matter; he was here now. He practically danced up the stairs and quickly approached the dark blue master bedroom. When he pushed the door open, Bellatrix was sitting up in her bed, staring out the window at the softly falling mist. She turned her head slowly but did not smile.

"Hello, Master," she said, and Voldemort felt his mirth dissolve into the air like smoke. He cleared his throat and walked into the room, quietly working to put her new black pansies into the vase with the ones he'd left her when he'd woken at six this morning. He sat in the chair beside the bed and asked simply,

"Do you need anything?"

"Minky's been very attentive," Bellatrix said, and then he realised she was embracing herself protectively. She hunched over a little, but she did not appear to be in any physical pain. Voldemort licked his teeth and finally asked,

"What's happened?"

She shook her head silently, and Voldemort snapped,

"What's happened, Bellatrix?"

She shut her eyes, and he watched water pool around her long lashes. At last, she whispered,

"He came… to visit… and he saw the flowers. He called me a whore."

"Rodolphus." It wasn't a question. Voldemort's breath quickened in his nostrils, and he scoffed. "He called  _you_  a whore? He fucks actual whores."

"I told him that," Bellatrix said, "and when I did, he slapped my cheek and reminded me that I'm still his wife.  _When your cunny's ready again, it's mine,_  he said, and then he left. Said he was going to see his pretty girls at the Lazy Unicorn."

Voldemort flew to his feet, overcome with a stronger rage than he'd felt in a very long time. He dragged his fingers over his hair and chomped hard on his lip. He whispered,

"You're not going to have a husband for much longer. Just so you're aware."

"What are you going to do, Master?" Bellatrix asked fearfully, and Voldemort snarled,

"I do not need your permission, or anyone else's. I'll be back."

He Disapparated from the spot then, coming to in Knockturn Alley. He stormed down the cobblestones, through the cold mist, his yew wand clutched in his hand. People shrieked softly when they saw him and scurried out of the way, disappearing into nooks and doorways, trying desperately to get out of his line of sight.

"It's  _him_ ," he heard some little child cry, and the mother shushed it. Voldemort ignored the stares, the scurrying, and he marched straight up to the narrow, hardly-marked doorway of the Lazy Unicorn. There was a worn white painting of a unicorn on the dark doorway, and he knew that it took six taps with the wand, then four, then seven, then one in order to open the doorway. He performed the tapping password, and the door swung open for him. He stormed inside to the sounds of acoustic guitar playing in one room and soft piano in another. There were witches writhing in little more than their knickers all over the place, and there were drapes and curtains hung to conceal the spaces were more than dances were taking place. Voldemort didn't have time to search the establishment. He shouted,

"Rodolphus Lestrange!"

A naked blonde witch looked up from the lounging young wizard upon whom she was straddled, and she muttered,

"That's you, sweetheart, isn't it?"

She climbed off the boy, scampering away as another witch handed her a thin robe, and the fat young wizard who had been receiving the naked girl's attentions slowly stood. He looked utterly terrified, and Voldemort told him,

"Come with me."

"My Lord," Rodolphus tried, but Voldemort held out his hand and snarled again,

"Come with me."

He wandlessly Summoned Rodolphus, whose boots dragged loudly across the wooden floor. The instant that Rodolphus reached him, Voldemort Disapparated, taking Rodolphus to his own flat in London. When they came to, Rodolphus looked around as if to try and figure out where they were.

"On your knees, boy," Voldemort snapped, and Rodolphus slowly descended, shaking like mad. Voldemort stepped back and aimed his wand at Rodolphus, his hand shaking just a little as he said,

"You slapped her. You struck her face."

Rodolphus' eyes flashed a little. "She's betrayed me."

"Hypocrite!" Voldemort hissed. "She's done so much less to you than you to her. You raging hypocrite! You struck her over flowers! You drugged and Stunned her over the denial of sex, when she nearly  _died_. Well. She only got a brief taste of death. You will know it forever."

"Please, Master." Rodolphus shook his head vehemently. "Please. I will… I will fix things. I will… do right by Bellatrix."

"No," Voldemort said firmly. "I will.  _Avada Kedavra!_ "

* * *

"You killed him." Bellatrix stared at the hands that she'd folded in her lap.

"He was a traitor," Voldemort said lightly from his chair. "There will be no funeral; his body is Vanished. He was a traitor. He was disgusting. All will know that he disgraced himself, and you, and me, and the cause."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she clarified,

"I did not mean to sound disrespectful, Master, nor accusatory. I am simply… observing. You've killed him."

"Do you mourn him?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix tipped her head as she pondered,

"I ought to. He was my husband. Widows ought to mourn their husbands, I suppose. But… how could I possibly mourn a man like that? No. I rejoice in his destruction. I celebrate it. My mother would disown me, to hear such a thing. She already thinks I am a vile creature."

"Why do you care what Druella Black thinks?" Voldemort demanded. "Of what consequence is her opinion?"

"None, Master," Bellatrix said, shaking her head, and Voldemort licked his lip as he informed her,

"I have something I wish to say."

She turned her beautiful wide eyes to him and nodded. Voldemort sat up very straight and told Bellatrix,

"You are very beautiful."

She smiled just a little, her eyes going wet, and she whispered,

"Thank you."

"It is so very much more than that, though," Voldemort continued. "Never in my life have I felt compelled to bring flowers to a witch, or to hold her. Never. There is something about you. There is something in your intelligence, your wit, your Darkness. There is something in your little smile, your black eyes, your words… the… sound of your voice."

He stopped then, for his throat felt tight and his breath was quickening, but he managed to carry on even as Bellatrix's eyes boiled over.

"It is a commonly-utilised hyperbole to say that one might kill for another. But I have killed for you, Bellatrix. I could have kept him alive, used him as a soldier. But something inside me would not permit it, because he had abused you in several ways, and I…"

He trailed off then, and he reached for Bellatrix's left hand. He sighed and slid off her wedding rings, setting them on the table beside the bed. He rubbed at her fourth left finger, where the rings had been, and stared at the indentations they'd left. He gulped hard and informed her very quietly,

"I could have kept him alive as my soldier, but something within me would not permit that. I killed him because I care very deeply for you."

She did not answer, but he heard her sniffle a little, and when he raised his eyes, she whispered gently,

"I think… Master… that when my body heals, I will be very ready indeed for -"

"We can discuss that later," he said, but she insisted,

"I do not fear you. I adore you."

"Hmm." He nodded and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He shut his eyes and thought out loud. "I have to hold a meeting. To discuss Rodolphus' death. Many people witnessed me taking him from the Lazy Unicorn. And I'll need to tell his father and your parents myself."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered. "If it weren't for me, he'd still be your soldier."

"That is not the sort of army I want." Voldemort shook his head. "And, anyway, I will hear no further apology on the matter. The decision was mine to make, and I made it. It is not your place to apologise for my decisions, Miss Black."

"Miss Black," Bellatrix repeated softly, and Voldemort put up an eyebrow.

"No use going by Madam Lestrange anymore," he said. "It's a widow's right to retreat to her maiden name, and I command that you do so."

"Bellatrix Black again, then," she said, and her breath shook as she marveled, "I can scarcely believe he's gone."

"Eyes forward," Voldemort said simply. He leaned toward her and planted a swift kiss on her lips. "I'm going to go sort all this out. May I come back later?"

"You don't need to ask," Bellatrix assured him, and he smirked, nodding. He rose and walked out of the blue bedroom, sparing one last glance back to her before he left.

**Author's Note: Ding, dong, Rodolphus is dead! I told you this story was going to demolish canon. Now that canon is well and truly dead, and Voldemort's still swoon-worthy but definitely murdersome… what next? Mwah hahaha. Thank you for reading and REVIEWING!**


	12. Chapter 12

" _Dead?"_

"Yes, Mother." Bellatrix huffed a sigh and shook her head. "When are you going to stop asking?"

"I simply can't believe this." Druella stormed around Bellatrix's bedroom. "Get up out of that bed and get mourning clothes on! Your husband is  _dead!_ "

"I  _can't_  put mourning clothes on," Bellatrix said impatiently. "I've had major surgery, remember?"

"You utter whore!" Druella screamed, stomping her foot and flinging her wand so that Bellatrix's oil lamp flew at the wall and shattered. That started a small fire, and Bellatrix shrieked as she snatched her wand and whirled, trying to put it out.

"Mum!" she shrieked, and suddenly the fire was extinguished and the damask wallpaper was healed up. Bellatrix turned her face and gasped to see Lord Voldemort striding into the bedroom, his eyes wide.

"Setting fires, Druella?" he barked, and Druella dipped into a low curtsy.

"My Lord," she mumbled. Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her, and suddenly the room felt very full. He loomed over Bellatrix's bed and over Druella, and he demanded,

"You've come to berate your widowed daughter?"

"She is a whore, and she is responsible for Rodolphus' death!" Druella insisted. Voldemort shook his head.

"No. I am responsible for Rodolphus' death. Actually… he was responsible for his own death. And I will have you know, Druella, that moment before Rodolphus met his fate, he had a naked prostitute gyrating above him in the Lazy Unicorn."

Druella's face went very red, and she whispered, "I thought those were just vile lies, Bellatrix."

"Yes, you've always thought I was a liar," Bellatrix nodded. "But I was never lying about Rodolphus, and I'm not lying about Andy, either."

"Andromeda?" Druella snapped. "What's she got to do with any of this? You mean that Mudblood boy you claim she's dating?"

"Ted Tonks," Bellatrix said firmly to Voldemort. "My sister Andromeda wants to marry this Mudblood boy called Ted Tonks."

"Interesting," Voldemort said very lightly. "Very interesting."

Druella shook her head vehemently and aimed a bony finger at Bellatrix. "You are still a murderer yourself. Killing your own child."

"I'll hear no more of that, Druella," Voldemort snarled. "Watch your tongue and watch your thoughts, or you'll wind up like your son-in-law."

Druella's eyes practically bugged out onto the ground, and she whispered, "Is that a threat, My Lord?"

He tipped his head and said, "You know, I believe it is."

"I will see no more of you," Druella hissed at Bellatrix, who responded,

"That's probably for the best."

"Go, Druella," Voldemort insisted, and Druella huffed, nodding cursorily at Voldemort as she passed. She could be heard stomping down the stairs and then flouncing out the front door, and once she'd gone, Voldemort came and sat beside the bed in the chair.

"When did she get here?" he asked, and Bellatrix held her abdomen as she said,

"Just after you went and told… mmm… my father and her. Oh. I'm aching."

"You probably strained something trying to put the damned fire out. And just the stress… Ought to give you some potion, probably," Voldemort said, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"No, Master. Please. I'm so sick of being drugged. Only… it's almost ten. Please, would you stay for just a while? I'm afraid of being alone too long just now."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly. He shut his eyes and whispered, "It's been a day, hasn't it?"

"So it has," Bellatrix agreed. She thought back over it. This morning, She'd awakened after hours spent in Voldemort's arms to find black pansies and a note. She'd put them in water, and then Rodolphus had come. He'd become very angry and had called her The Dark Lord's Whore. He'd slapped her. He'd spit at her and told her he was going to his pretty girls. Then Voldemort had come in the afternoon and had grown angry. He'd left and murdered Rodolphus. He'd spent hours in meetings about it all. Druella had come. Now she was here with Voldemort, and all was quiet, and it felt like an eternity all added up together.

"You'll have to Transfigure your clothes in pyjamas," Bellatrix mused quietly, and Voldemort snorted a little laugh. Bellatrix frowned, confused, and he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. I don't sleep in clothes or pyjamas at home, anyway."

"You don't?" Bellatrix dragged her fingers over her blankets, and Voldemort smirked. He waited, but when Bellatrix still seemed perplexed, Voldemort whispered,

"Naked, Bellatrix."

"Oh." Her eyes went round, and he laughed rather uproariously. He shrugged and admitted,

"Never thought I'd confess that."

"Well, I never thought I'd hear it," Bellatrix said. "I was sleeping in a Slytherin dormitory a few months ago; it wouldn't occur to me to sleep naked at night. Does it feel nice against the sheets?"

He grinned and nodded. "Far less constricting, yes."

"Oh. Well, you can sleep any way you like, Master," Bellatrix smiled, but his mirth started to dissolve, and he said,

"I don't think that's true, is it?"

Bellatrix licked her bottom lip and stared at the crotch of his robes. She raised her eyes up to his and licked her lip again, for it kept going dry. Her breath sped up a bit as she started to imagine him, and she informed him seriously,

"I am not afraid of you."

"You're probably the only one," he said with a crooked smile, pulling his robes open. "Especially after today. Executing one of my own Death Eaters."

"Well. He earned it," Bellatrix nodded. Her eyes burned as she realised the man she'd put on a wedding dress for, the man who had struck her and died moments after a naked whore had danced on him, was dead. She remembered vomiting blood for hours and hours as Rodolphus asked the Healer if there was any way to continue the pregnancy. Bellatrix's breath shook in her nostrils, and she said,

"My Lord. I want you."

"Are you certain?" He put up one eyebrow. She nodded vigorously and watched him as he studied her body. On instinct, she pulled down the wide neckline of her nightgown and started to play with a breast, and Voldemort let out a soft little noise. His fingers danced over the crotch of his trousers, and he whispered,

"Let me see your nipple."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix dragged her thumb over her hardened nipple and squeezed hard at the tissue of her breast. She arched her back a little, and Voldemort mumbled,

"Touch yourself. Please."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix slid her hand beneath the blankets and pulled up her nightgown, pushing her fingers into her knickers and gasping when the pads of her fingers made contact with her folds. She was already wet, just from anticipation, and now she pushed two fingers down and around her clit and moaned desperately. "Master!  _Master!_ "

"Bella." He sounded a little unhinged as he practically ripped open the buttons on his trousers and yanked out his erect cock. " _Lubrico_. Oh. Bloody hell. This is… erm… not going to last."

"No, me, neither." Bellatrix curled two fingers into her body, hooking them hard against the front of herself and using her thumb to draw circles on her nub. She panted like she'd been running for days, and the watched without fear as Voldemort began to stroke at his cock.

"So big," she marveled, and he smirked.

"No need to flatter me," he whispered, but she assured him,

"Bigger than I'm used to."

He laughed a little then, and he used two fingers to squeeze at the base of his cock whilst the other hand pumped up his shaft and played with the swollen, purplish tip. He started thrusting a little up into his own hand and whispering over and over,

"Bella. Bella."

"Hmm…" Her head fell back, and she couldn't hold it in anymore. She let her mouth fall open and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she came. Her walls clenched and cinched around her fingers as everything tingled and went warm.

"Master…" She was moaning like a harlot now, but she couldn't care. She couldn't stop. She heard the wet slick of Voldemort's hand on himself, and she forced her drowsy eyes to look. She gasped and let out a little whimper as he slammed his fist down to the bottom of his shaft and let his eyes roll back a bit.

Suddenly his come came leaping out in jets, spurts that were getting all over Voldemort's hands and trousers. With every creamy jettison of the stuff, Bellatrix struggled to take a breath. She wasn't frightened. She wasn't traumatised by this, by him. He'd made certain she was safe from what this substance could do to her, and she liked to see it now. She liked to see him like this, in the midst of his ecstasy.

"Master…" Bellatrix felt profoundly tired all of a sudden, and she snuggled down into the blankets as she felt like she might fall asleep. She watched as Voldemort cleaned himself up, and his breath slowed a bit as he tucked his cock back into his trousers. His cheeks were still red, and he announced without warning,

"Just so you know, tonight I'm going to kiss you until your lips are bruised."

"All right," Bellatrix said breathlessly. "I think you should sleep any way you like."

He laughed quietly and shook his head. "Pyjamas for tonight. But first… I shall have Minky bring us up some dinner. What would you like?"

He rose, and Bellatrix insisted, "Anything you'd like, Master. You choose."

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, and she felt an odd buzz in her brain. She had a sudden vision of her very favourite food, pork and apple pasty. Voldemort nodded and started to walk away as he said,

"Pork and apple pasty it is."

**Author's Note: Oh, murdery sexy Voldemort. Threatening Druella. Killing Dolph. Being sexy and romantic. LOL. Now, does anyone sense something bad coming for Ted Tonks? Hmm… as always, thanks a million for reading and huge thanks to those who review.**


	13. Chapter 13

Voldemort finished off a thank-you letter to Aurelius Rookwood, the father of his Death Eater Augustus, for hosting a dinner party to raise funds and awareness for Lord Voldemort's cause. He signed his name at the bottom of the letter, and then he heard soft knocking on his office door.

"Enter," he said rather sharply. The door opened, and when he looked up, Bellatrix stood there, looking rather delectable in a short black dress and high boots. He set down his quill and folded his hands, raising his brows.

"Look who's out and about," he said. She smirked and shut the door, walking into the office and coming near his desk. She bowed her head.

"My Lord," she said. "I have come to inform you of services performed in your honour."

He frowned, confused, and asked, "What do you mean? Sit."

She did, and then he could see that she was happy. Excited. He picked up his quill and put it into the green glass holder where he kept his stock, and he rolled up his letter and sealed it. He set it aside and asked again,

"What have you done, you little creature?"

She grinned and said slyly, "You're a Legilimens, Master, aren't you?"

"Hmm. Perhaps I ought to watch, then? All right.  _Legilimens._ " He dissolved into her mind like tea steeping in water, and he was met with the full, colourful, vivid imagery of where she'd just been.

_Bellatrix was in Liverpool. She walked straight up to a semi-detached house, red brick, and she clutched the giant bouquet of red roses she had Conjured. She'd had to buy the vase; she wasn't as good at Conjuring vases as Lord Voldemort was. But it was no matter; she was walking up to the house with two dozen red roses in a vase._

_She knocked on the door and waited… and waited, and waited, until eventually she considered leaving. But then she heard a voice call,_

' _Coming! One moment! Sorry!'_

_Bellatrix gulped and took a slightly trembling breath. When the door opened, Bellatrix glanced around and saw an elderly Muggle woman next door sweeping her steps. Bellatrix would have to manipulate her way into the house. She huffed a breath and said to the pretty, rather gangly middle-aged witch before her,_

" _Delilah Tonks?"_

" _Yes. What lovely roses," Delilah said, and Bellatrix smiled a bit._

" _I'm from D. Mark Floral. Your husband Brenton ordered these roses as a surprise," she said, and Delilah's face lit up._

" _How sweet of Brenton! Here, I'll take them," Delilah said, and Bellatrix focused all her energy on wandlessly, nonverbally thinking, CONFUNDO. Delilah vibrated where she stood, her eyes glassing over a little, and Bellatrix said cheerfully,_

" _I'll bring them inside, Mrs Tonks, and give you instructions on taking care of them."_

" _Oh, how wonderful," said Delilah, and she opened the door wider for Bellatrix, who followed her in. The elderly woman next door seemed deaf or just bored, for she had paid no attention to the entire event. Just the same, Bellatrix glanced at her and thought again, CONFUNDO. This time, she convinced the old woman that there had never been any flowers. No matter what anyone asked her, no one had brought flowers to this house._

" _Right this way," Delilah said, and Bellatrix shut the door and dropped the roses. The vase shattered on the floor, and Bellatrix whipped her wand out. Delilah Tonks scowled and said,_

" _Oh, dear. I suppose you'll have to -"_

" _Evanesco," Bellatrix snapped, Vanishing the mess. Delilah Tonks gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. She spluttered,_

" _How did you… you're just like Ted! You're a witch! You're like Ted!"_

" _Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix cried. There was a flash of green light, and Delilah Tonks slumped to the ground in silence. Bellatrix stared at the body for a long moment and decided to leave it there for her husband to find. She marched out the front door, Scouring the door knobs of any fingerprints. She decided to off the elderly Muggle woman for good measure, and she quickly aimed her wand at the old lady, who was still sweeping._

" _Avada Kedavra," Bellatrix said almost boredly. With another jade flash, the old woman crumpled, her broom toppling over and sliding down the concrete stairs. The street was quiet then, and Bellatrix laughed in a low, malicious cackle. She aimed her wand at the cloudy sky and whispered, like a prayer, "Morsmordre."_

_The Dark Mark crackled upward in green sparks, tattooing the sky with a skull emitting a snake from its mouth. Bellatrix laughed again, staring at what she'd done, and then she Disapparated, coming to outside Malfoy Manor._

"Bellatrix." Voldemort flew to his feet and rushed around his desk. Bellatrix was grinning like a madwoman, shaking a little, and she giggled a bit. He snatched her out of her chair and seized her face in his hands. "Bella."

"Are you cross with me, Master?" she asked, and he shook his head wildly as he felt himself start to go hard in his trousers.

"No. I… I am…"

_I think I might be falling in love with you,_  he thought, some wild corner of his brain thrusting the thought to the front of his consciousness. He shoved the insane notion away and whispered against her lips,

"I am so very proud of you."

He kissed her then, deeply enough that he lost himself in her, and as the kiss went on and on and on, their hands searching each other, their mouths pressing and reaching and pulling, he thought again distantly,

_I think I might be…_

* * *

"My friends." Voldemort sat at the head of the table full of excited Death Eaters who had gathered at his summons. He smirked at little at Bellatrix as he arranged himself in his chair, and he told them, "We've been spending the autumn killing filth."

A low rumble of laughter went round the table, and Voldemort turned his face to Avery.

"For tripping a Mudblood down a flight of stairs, you received not only a financial reward, Avery, but my sincerest gratitude. You are a hero in our sight. And, yet, your work was done in secret."

"It was, Master," Avery admitted. Voldemort turned his face to the others and held up a copy of the  _Daily Prophet._

" _DARK MARK SEEN IN SKY ABOVE MURDERED MUGGLES IN LIVERPOOL._  The article goes on to mention that one of the so-called 'victims' was an elderly Muggle woman who was sweeping her steps and probably was a witness to the other killing, whilst the likely target of the crime was the mother of a Muggle-born Hogwarts student. This Muggle woman, Delilah Tonks, was found by her husband. Bellatrix."

She smiled at him and bowed her head, and Voldemort asked crisply,

"Tell me about Delilah Tonks' son, Ted."

"He's a Hufflepuff, My Lord," Bellatrix said in a sing-song sort of tone, "and my sister Andromeda wants to besmirch the good name of the Black family by marrying the filthy boy."

A hiss went around the table, and Voldemort neatly folded the newspaper as he asked Bellatrix politely,

"Who killed Delilah Tonks?"

"I did, Master," she answered at once, and the others looked very impressed. Bellatrix was the youngest of them, now that Rodolphus was gone, and she was the only witch among them. She was like a little girl among dirty men. Voldemort asked her,

"Have you any intention of letting Ted Tonks live?"

"None whatsoever, Master," Bellatrix said, shaking her head. The others laughed and smiled, nodding their approval, and Voldemort leaned toward Bellatrix as he curled up half his mouth. His voice was smooth then as he asked,

"Did you enjoy tattooing the clouds with my mark, Bellatrix?"

She shivered visibly and nodded, whispering, "Oh, yes, Master."

The others could tell, he knew. They could tell he wanted her, that she wanted him. He didn't care. He couldn't care. He blinked a few times and nodded.

"Five thousand Galleons is your reward," he began, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"I could never accept payment for my service to you, Master."

He scowled. "It is not optional."

She shrank back and nodded. "Then I am grateful."

He swallowed hard and told her. "Come to my office after the meeting. Everyone else… dismissed."

**Author's Note: I am flying out today and working at a conference tomorrow, so over the next few days I may not have a ton of time to write. I will update when I can. (For those who read my previous works, you may be amused to know that I'm going to Las Vegas. Ha.) In the meantime, thank you so much for reading and reviewing.**


	14. Chapter 14

"Miss Bellatrix, Miss."

"What is it, Minky?" Bellatrix stood in her bathroom with a towel around her, running a comb through her damp curls. She'd just taken a long, hot shower after a session of energetic calisthenics. Her body needed exercise after so long of being bedridden; her muscles felt atrophied. She'd gotten sweaty doing push-ups and jumping jacks, and now she was braiding her damp curls as Minky said,

"Mr Lord Voldemort is waiting for you in the sitting room, Miss."

"What?" Belaltrix dropped her comb with a clatter, and she blurted, "Well, what are you waiting for, Minky? Go make the man tea! Offer him biscuits!"

"Yes, Miss."

The House-Elf had stopped calling her  _Madam_  in the last week, Bellatrix had noticed. She had spent three days of the last seven in Voldemort's presence. Once, they'd kissed and kissed until their lips were sore. Another time they'd played wizard's chess until Bellatrix was sleepy, and then they'd fallen asleep tangled up and whispering about Voldemort's plans. A third time he'd read stories to her as rain fell outside - stories about a Dark wizard who got caught up in Necromancy.

She adored him, she knew. Did he feel any semblance of that back toward her? Could he possibly feel any of it? It was a fool's errand to ask any of that of him, she knew, and she never would. Still, she liked the feel of his fingers in her hair and his lips against hers. She liked the smell of him - leather and wood. She liked the taste of his tongue and lips, the feel of his palm cupping her breast. She liked the sound of his laugh when she managed to amuse him. She liked so much of him. When he was near her, she was happy. When he was not near, she craved him. What did all of that mean, she wondered?

Rodolphus was dead. She was a widow. More than that, Voldemort had  _killed_  Rodolphus, and in large part it had been because of what Rodolphus had done to Bellatrix. She did not miss Rodolphus in the least. She had hardly known her husband. They certainly had not been in love. Aside from not having had time to fall in love, they were incompatible. And what she'd known about Rodolphus had been enough to inform her that she never, ever could have loved him. Not ever. So she didn't mourn him, and she didn't miss him.

Her mother had not come back to visit since setting a lamp on fire in Bellatrix's bedroom and being essentially banished by Lord Voldemort. But Cygnus Black had come to see his eldest daughter the day earlier, and he'd expressed some measure of happiness that Bellatrix had started to "take care of the Tonks problem." Well, Bellatrix thought, she didn't much care what her parents thought about the Tonks family. But she did care what Voldemort thought, and apparently what Bellatrix had done had made Lord Voldemort  _very_  happy.

He'd insisted on paying Bellatrix money, which was funny because she was very certain the money had come from her own father. The reward, he'd said, was standard. What was not standard was the way he'd kissed her against a wall and touched her between her legs until she'd moaned and come for him, crying out for him as he whispered to her that she was a good girl, a good soldier, and that he was so very proud of her.

Now Bellatrix put on a loose-fitting black cotton dress that hit her knees and slid on simple black flat shoes. She padded down the stairs and hustled into the sitting room to find Voldemort standing by the window with a cup of tea in his hands. Oolong. They both liked oolong, she knew. He turned when she came into the room, and his face was so serious that she froze and asked,

"What's wrong, Master?"

"I need to speak with you," he said, and her stomach sank. Was she in trouble?

"Have I displeased you?" she asked, and he just shook his head. He walked over to the two sofas facing one another, and then Bellatrix saw a large parcel sitting on the low table between them. She frowned a little, and Voldemort instructed her,

"Open the box."

Bellatrix felt a serious sense of foreboding as she sank slowly onto one of the sofas and reached for the twine on the box. She untied it and pulled the lid off the box, and then she pulled the sides down. She gasped, for inside was a perfect glass cylinder with black enameled wood on the top and bottom. Inside the glass cylinder, suspended in the air and turning very, very slowly, was a small bundle of perfectly Preserved black pansies.

"For me?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort smirked.

"For you," he nodded. Bellatrix stared at the flowers, and her eyes welled very, very heavily. She stared at Voldemort, and she whispered,

"I love them."

"I… love…" Voldemort looked physically pained then, and Bellatrix felt her eyes go very wide. What was he saying? Had he lost his mind? Voldemort nodded desperately, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open.

"Master," she murmured, and he said gently,

"I said I needed to speak with you, and I meant it. I need to speak with you."

"All right," Bellatrix nodded. "Thank you for the flowers."

"I believe that I have fallen in love with you," Voldemort said by way of reply. Bellatrix couldn't breathe then. She couldn't swallow. She couldn't think. She just stared at him like a fish, open-mouthed and idiotic in her shock. He continued bravely,

"I did not, for a good many years, consider myself capable of feeling any demonstrable semblance of love. I am still not entirely certain that the emotions I am experiencing are  _love_  in the same sense others know it. I do not suppose it much matters. What I do know is this."

He came to sit beside Bellatrix, and he took her hand in his. She felt so alarmed then that she thought she'd lose consciousness. Somehow, the feel of his thumb dragging over her palm kept her awake. He met her eyes and said,

"I know that the very brave soldier who unflinchingly slays enemies of my cause is the very same girlish beauty who makes me stir with want. I know that the same intelligent, witty witch who impresses me with her instincts for Darkness is the very same funny, smiling girl who brightens the rainiest days for me. I can no longer function very long without you, and I find that your presence in my life strengthens my political cause and my personal existence. I know these things. And, to me, these things are love. I do not care what others think. This is what I know."

"Master." Bellatrix squeezed at his hand and nodded. "That is love, I think."

"And?" His voice was incredibly uncertain then, and Bellatrix knew why. Did she love him back?

"Of course I do," she whispered, and he nodded, seeming quite relieved. He stared at the Preserved black pansies he'd brought her, and he asked,

"Where do you want those?"

"On my dining table, in the centre," Bellatrix smiled. "A showpiece."

He curled up his lips and used his wand to Banish the gift to the dining room. Bellatrix kissed his cheek, holding his jaw, and she whispered,

"Of course I do. Thank you for the flowers, Master."  
"Bella." He turned his face and kissed her then, gently and tenderly, and he asked, "Shall I stay tonight?"

"Every night," she joked, but he gave her a serious look and suggested,

"You ought to come to my place."

She blinked a few times. "Your home, Master?"

"Yes." He stroked at her curls and told her, "Come to my flat. You think Minky can cook? You should taste  _my_  cooking. Then you can spend the night at my place for once."

"Master." Bellatrix was overwhelmed, but he just kissed her again, and he said quietly, "I've told you that I'm in love with you; the least you can do is come over to my flat for the evening."

"Of course I will," she smiled, and before she could say anything else, he Disapparated from the spot, taking her with him by Side-Along.

**Author's Note: Apologies for the mini-chapter - this is airplane writing! Yay!**


	15. Chapter 15

"I must admit, Master, that this is not the type of home I would have expected you to have," Bellatrix said, walking around the elegant grey-and-white sitting room. Voldemort cleared his throat and let her explore, and he moved into his kitchen. He enjoyed cooking; he'd learnt to cook out of necessity, but it had become a hobby. He had no desire for a House-Elf of his own, because he wanted to live in solitude, and the presence of one of the creatures was not something he craved. Nor could he eat regularly at restaurants. So he cooked for himself, and he cooked well.

He opened the cupboards where he kept large stocks of magically Preserved food. He sent the Malfoys' House-Elf on shopping trips when his stocks ran low. He looked through what he had and asked Bellatrix,

"Do you care for fish?"

"Fish?" Her eyes went up, and he shook his head.

"Smelly," he said dismissively. "How do you take your steak?"

She seemed very impressed then, and she said warmly, "As the chef prefers, Master."

He smirked and decided to show off a bit. He would do all of this wandlessly. It was almost impossible to do wandless magic in the first place, but to perform cooking magic without a wand? She would be impressed.

He Summoned his cast iron skillet and the two steaks he had perfectly chilled in the iced cupboard. He thawed them with a flick of his wrist and put them into the skillet, which he made blisteringly hot at once. The steaks began to sear, and Voldemort muttered a spell to Vanish the smoke from the cooking as soon as it rose. Bellatrix watched in sheer wonder. He brought out some small potatoes and cast a few spells to roast them and season them using some herbs he had. He asked Bellatrix,

"Merlot all right?"  
"Yes," she said breathlessly, and Voldemort smiled at her as he flipped their steaks to the other side and pushed up the spell on the potatoes. He uncorked the bottle of wine with magic and poured it into two large wine glasses, which he Banished to his small dining table along with cutlery and napkins. The steaks were finishing up, so he put them on the plates and let them rest as he Scoured the skillet, doled out potatoes, and told Bellatrix,

"Hope you're hungry."

"Famished," she said, sounding shocked. She went over to the table and sat slowly, and Voldemort could scarcely keep from grinning as he brought her plate to her. She raised her eyes and whispered, "Thank you, Master."

He stared at her for a moment, and his smile faded a little as he assured her,

"I love you."

"Oh." She nodded vigorously and promised him, "And I love you."

"Good, he said. "Let's eat."

* * *

They got drunk that night.

Somehow they worked their way through two full bottles of wine, and by the time they'd done that, they were both laughing at the dining table, the dishes long washed and put away.

"So the Muggle woman really believed you were a florist?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix giggled,

"I told her I was from D. Mark Floral."

"D. Mark Floral!" Voldemort couldn't stop laughing then. He finished his glass of wine and insisted, "Oh, I shouldn't drink anymore. Neither should you."

"Sorry." Bellatrix nodded and whispered, "I… I want you so badly."

"Do you?" He was teasing her, his head spinning and light, but she seemed very serious. He went to drink his wine, but it was all gone. He set his empty glass down and asked,

"What do you want, Bella? Tell me."

"You said… you told me that sex wasn't what I thought it was."

"Well. You had sex," Voldemort admitted. "Bad sex."

"What's good sex?" Bellatrix's chest heaved a little as she asked him, and suddenly he found himself going rather hard.

"Oh." He shoved the empty wine glass away and asked her solemnly, "You want to find out?"

"Yes, please." She nodded and rose, stumbling over toward him. "I'm not saying it because I've had wine. I've wanted this… you… I've only got the courage now to ask, that's all."

" _Legilimens."_  Voldemort peered into her mind and saw days and days of carnal, desperate desire. She'd wanted sex with him for days now. She wasn't lying about that. He gulped and stood, taking her hand and leading her slowly into his bedroom. The walls in here were white, as were the wispy curtains around his sturdy grey bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and began stripping off his robes, and he whispered to Bellatrix,

"Will you take off your clothes? Please?"

"Yes. Of course." She seemed very nervous then, and he felt compelled to inform her,

"If you tell to stop, I will stop. My good soldier. My good little killer. I love you."

He wasn't sure why he'd praised her like that, but he hadn't been able to help it. He took off his clothing one bit at a time as he watched her strip off her dress, her bra and her knickers and shoes. She was naked then, and he let out a few small noises that were more animal than human.

"Bella." He groaned softly and reached out for her waist, unashamed all of a sudden of his own nudity or the pile of his clothes on the floor beside hers. He held onto her, stroking her as she stood before him, and she asked,

"May I… sit atop you? Like that day you brought me Cauldron Cake?"

"Yes." He nodded vigorously. "Yes. Of course."

She put a knee on either side of him, and when she kissed him, he tasted wine on her. He put one hand to the small of her back and rubbed her thigh with the other hand. He trailed his fingers around until he squeezed at her breast a bit, kissing her all the while, and she whispered,

"Master. I am yours. I… I live for you."

"Come here," he said rather desperately, and he urged her to sink down onto him. When she did, he hissed and she moaned, and he realised he was not going to last very long at all. He needed to make her come. Fast. He urged her to move, and when she started to sway and bob on him, he felt everything start to wind up tightly inside of him. He was going to finish much too quickly; this felt entirely too good.

She ebbed and flowed like a wave atop him, her breasts swaying, and she was too beautiful. The tightness of her quim around him, the warmth, was too much. Tight. Warm. Beautiful. His. He couldn't stave it off, he thought. He couldn't make this last. She was too perfect. His ears were ringing; he was seconds away.

_Gaudens,_  he incanted nonverbally, feeling like he couldn't possibly leave her unfulfilled. Suddenly Bellatrix buried her face into the crook of his neck, and she moaned loudly, her hips stilling, and he felt her walls clamping as she came. He whispered helplessly,

"Sorry."

Then he felt his own orgasm detonate like a bomb, his come pumping up into her, filling her. His hands tightened on her as everything went hot and white, blinding and then black. He seared with pleasure for so long that he couldn't breathe, and then at very long last, Bellatrix climbed off of him on legs that looked like they'd taken a Jelly-Legs Jinx. She scoffed and dragged her fingers through her curls.

"So  _that's_ good sex."

"Were you… frightened?" he asked, though he didn't feel fear from her. She just shook her head and said, not for the first time,

"I am not afraid. Not with you."

"I made you come," he admitted, unwilling to be dishonest with her about it. When she looked confused, he clarified, "I was a moment away from finishing, and I didn't want to leave you behind, so… I cast a charm to… why are you crying? I apologise…"

"No, it's… you are very good to me, Master," Bellatrix said, swiping at her eyes. She nodded. "You are so very good to me."

"Oh." He felt very drunk again, and he whispered, "Showers, I think. Then bed?"

Bellatrix was quiet, and he knew why. Did he want her to sleep here? He reached for her fingers and nodded, finding her eyes as he said,

"I should like you to stay here."

She smiled a little and murmured, "Yes, Master."

**Author's Note: I'm still at my conference in Vegas (at the Flamingo - why do you think I wrote it into my other story? Haha!) but I fly home tomorrow. Sorry for these short chapters, but I've been so busy. Regular service to resume shortly! I appreciate your patience, readership, and reviews.**


	16. Chapter 16

Bellatrix waited for Brenton Tonks to walk up to his little red car up outside his house in Liverpool. She was hiding, Dissilusioned, on the steps of the house next door, the house that had belonged to the old woman she'd murdered. If Mr Tonks had looked too closely, he'd have seen an odd blur where Bellatrix was standing. But he didn't look. He just stared straight ahead, appearing utterly despondant, presumably over his wife's death a week earlier.

"Go on, Brenton," Bellatrix whispered, and when Brenton climbed into the red car, Bellatrix immediately aimed her wand at the car and said firmly, " _BOMBARDA!"_

There was a sudden explosion, like the car bombs that had been in the recent Muggle news. People on the street, busy in the morning, shrieked and began to run. Bellatrix waited for a moment and watched the red car smoulder and flame, and she paused until she could plainly see the charred, bent, obviously dead form of Brenton Tonks inside the car's husk.

"Ring the fire brigade!" someone screamed, but already Bellatrix could hear sirens. She aimed her wand at the sky and incanted,

" _Morsmordre._ " She Disapparated at once, and when she came to, she was inside her own house. She paced like mad, feeling more alive than she ever had. She pressed her wand to her Dark Mark and whispered, "Master. Master. Master…"

He appeared in her foyer just a few moments later, and he could read her excitement. He was in her head before she knew what was happening, watching it all take place, and then suddenly he had her crushed against a wall, his mouth smashed against hers.

"Good girl," he told her. "Good, good, good girl. Mmph. Bella."

"We need to have a meeting, Master, don't we?" she asked, but he insisted,

"You and I need to have a meeting, Bellatrix."

"We do?" She pushed at his chest a little, and he seemed breathless. He seemed hard, eager, excited. She laughed a little and let him kiss her some more, and then she asked, "Have I pleased you? Killing both the Tonks Muggles?"

"You have pleased me beyond measure. But, then, you always please me. You are by far my most loyal soldier. I love you. I do. And I think I will for a long, long while. And that is why you and I need to have a meeting, Bellatrix," Voldemort said. She frowned a little, but he dragged his teeth over his lip and called, "Minky! Tea in the sitting room!"

* * *

"And you have…  _five_  of these?" Bellatrix asked in disbelief. Voldemort had explained to her how he'd learnt of Horcruxes, how he'd been taught to make them, how he'd crafted them out of significant objects. He'd explained their purpose to her, just how very Dark they were, and the way they would help keep him immortal. She was in shock. She was awed by him. He nodded gravely now and sipped at his oolong tea as he told her,

"You're beginning to do dangerous work for me, Bellatrix."

Sudden realisation came over her, and she blinked a few times as she said, "You want me to make one."

"I do." He nodded and set down his teacup. "I want to be certain that, if someone cast a Killing Curse your way, you wouldn't succumb to it. You are no longer married. You are infertile. We are in love. I can see no good barrier to you making one."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she asked softly, "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he said simply. "It hurts worse than a Cruciatus Curse. The sensation of having your suol split apart from you is the worst pain that exists. Full stop."

"Oh." Bellatrix raised her eyebrows and gulped. "How long does it last?"

"A full day and a full night. It must be done at the full moon, beginning precisely at dawn. Incanting the spells takes about ten minutes. Splitting the soul off takes four increments of eight hours. In between each bout of the pain, you must say the spells again. That is very difficult, after suffering through the pain, and you can take no potion for it. You  _must_  feel the pain in its entirety."

"What does the pain feel like?" Bellatrix asked rather fearfully, and he shivered a little.

"Like acid in your veins. Needles in your muscles. A saw going through all your bones. Your eyeballs being ripped out and your skin being set on fire. All of that at once."

Bellatrix's jaw dropped. "But it would mean that a part of me would stay tethered to this world, unable to be killed?"

"That's right," Voldemort nodded, and Bellatrix curled up her lips, saying determinedly,

"Then I shall do it, Master. I am not afraid."

He smiled contentedly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a beautiful piece of black jewelry.

"Where did you find this, My Lord?" Bellatrix breathed, taking the black pansy brooch from Voldemort. He smirked.

"I used to work at Borgin at Burkes. He's still willing to do my favours, hunt down objects for me. You'll have to hide this, but all of mine are objects with meaning. I thought… I thought perhaps…"

"Oh, I quite like the meaning." Bellatrix turned over the brooch, examining the black enamel and little black ornamental pearls and stones. She grinned at Voldemort and then rose, throwing her arms wantonly around him. She studied the piece again and said, "So this will be my Horcrux. A black pansy brooch. And where will I hide it?"

"I should like to hide it in my secret personal vault in Gringotts," Voldemort said, "for safekeeping. I have many items in there; no one will know this is a Horcrux."

Bellatrix's eyes watered. "Thank you, Master."

He tipped her chin up and whispered, "I love you. I won't lose you. I refuse."

She just nodded and said, "Then I shall stay with you."

* * *

"My friends," Voldemort said to the assembled Death Eaters, "once again Bellatrix has proven herself quite the assassin."

A jealous sort of crackle went around the table, but people smiled a bit. Bellatrix tipped her chin up and said,

"I only hope I have pleased you, Master."

"Oh, you always please me, Bella. Always," he told her, and a few sets of eyebrows went up. Voldemort tipped his head at her and asked, "Who's next? Ted Tonks himself? The boy will be living with his Muggle aunt now, I hear. Will you kill him for me over the Christmas holidays, Bellatrix?"

"Of course I will, Master." She bowed her head, and Voldemort repeated,

"Of course you will. Come here."

Surprised, Bellatrix rose and walked toward Voldemort. She knitted her fingers together, standing beside Voldemort's chair. He stared at her, almost eye to eye, and he whispered,

"Kiss me, Bella."

Her eyes went wide, and his brows went up, and she did as he commanded her. She bent and made a move to touch her lips to his cheek, but he grabbed her jaw rather roughly and smashed her mouth down onto his. He shoved his tongue up between her lips and dragged it over the roof of her mouth, and Bellatrix squealed a little.

She understood what was happening here. He was claiming her.

Everyone knew he'd killed Rodolphus. Everyone knew she'd been married and wasn't now. She was  _his_. That was to be clear now. Let there be no mistake at all - Lord Voldemort owned them all, but Bellatrix was  _his_ in a way none of the rest of them could ever be. She was  _his._  He kissed her and kissed her, his hands all over her waist and breasts right there in front of everyone, until finally he broke away. He was very calm, but Bellatrix was breathless, panting and red-cheeked.

"Congratulations on your excellent work," he said. "Sit down. Everyone else… dismissed."

**Author's Note: I know - another mini chapter. I promise this is the last one, but this was airplane writing. I'll be home tonight and will write a real, fleshed out Horcrux chapter... maybe one where something goes wrong. *gasp***


	17. Chapter 17

"Ready to eat?" Voldemort asked as Bellatrix stepped, bleary-eyed, from his bedroom. She yawned and admitted,

"I feel as though I've been sleeping forever, My Lord."

"Well. Thirteen hours, at least," he smirked. He'd put her to bed mid-afternoon the day before with Dreamless Sleep to buy her loads of rest before the act of making her Horcrux. Before that, they'd made love twice in a row, and then she'd bathed before he'd dosed her to sleep. Now she was dressed in a comfortable, loose black dress, her hair braided back, and she said,

"I'm entirely too nervous to eat, I think."

"You need strength," he insisted, showing her to the table, where he'd set out porridge for the both of them. The two of them sat and began eating in something of a nervous silence. He watched her pour some milk and sugar into hers, and eventually he told her, "You'll do well. I have confidence in you, Bellatrix. I would never have suggested that you do such a Dark act as this if I did not thoroughly believe you capable of completing it. When you've finished eating, I want you to go down to the street and kill a Muggle."

"Yes, Master," she said dutifully, finishing off her porridge. "Will any Muggle do?"

"Any one of them that you choose," he nodded. "Just be very careful not to be seen, and Vanish the body. You need murder freshly stamped on your soul."

A half hour later, she was smiling as she walked back into the flat, announcing proudly that she'd murdered a Muggle man who had flirted aggressively with her. She showed him the memory, demonstrating how the man had groped at her a little in the dark street before meeting his end before a violent jade flash of light. Voldemort quite liked the idea of what she'd done, and he kissed her for awhile before realising dawn was fast approaching. He helped her into the bedroom again, settling her into the bed and handing her the black pansy brooch he'd bought for her at Borgin and Burkes. Obtaining the brooch had been easy; this next twenty-four hours was the difficult bit.

Suddenly Bellatrix seemed abjectly terrified, and Voldemort assured her,

"You'll do very well. I've soundproofed the place. I can't do it to you, but -"

"Soundproofed?" She was panting with fear now, and Voldemort hesitated before he said gently,

"For the screams. You will… you'll certainly scream. But it's to be expected, and it will be over soon enough. I'll urge you on each time you need to recast the spells. All right? I see the first hints of dawn out the window, Bella. It's time."

"It's time." She shut her eyes and whispered, "I love you, Master. I love you with all that I am. Every little bit of me."

He bent down to touch his lips to hers, and he whispered against her mouth, "I need you forever, Bella. That is why I have asked you to do this, hmm?"

"Yes, My Lord." She reached up for his jaw, and they just held one another for a very long moment, until Voldemort murmured again,

"It's time."

She shut her eyes again and reached for her wand, aiming it at her black pansy brooch. She said firmly,

"The blood of my victim is fresh on my wand. My soul is newly scarred, having snuffed out another's light. My soul is ripe for splitting. Thus, let me be divided.  _Diviso, diviso, diviso, diviso. Horcrux mea fatus est, nunc et in perpetua._ Thus, let me be preserved.  _Preservo, preservo, preservo, preservo. Horcrux mea fatus est, nunc et in perpetua._ Thus, let me be immortal. Let me be divided.  _Diviso. Preservo. Horcrux mea fatus est, nunc et in perpetua._  Scarred and split.  _Horcrux… mea… fatus est… nunc et… in perp… in perpetua…_  AHHHHHH!"

She shrieked in agonised, sudden pain then as the spells reached their conclusion. She dropped her wand, and her back arched up as her brooch latched itself tightly against her fingers. She bent unnaturally, her eyes rolling back in her head, and Voldemort watched in horror. Had this been what he'd endured five times over? It seemed to last forever. She screamed and screamed. She arched and twisted. She rolled around the bed.

"My hair is on fire!" she shrieked at one point, yanking out fistfuls of her gorgeous curls. Voldemort was helpless; he could not intervene in this process. At another point, she screamed, "HELP! Help me, Master; please, please help me. Help me. Help me! They are sawing off my feet and hands!"

Hours later, she had stopped screaming and had just started convulsing, and that seemed to go on forever, too. She seized wildly, shaking and jerking, her muscles tensing and freezing oddly. Blood boiled up around her lips, which alarmed Voldemort. He didn't remember there being any blood in his own experiences making Horcruxes, but here it was in its bounty. It bubbled up around her mouth and seeped down around her lips in vile red streams, getting all over his white sheets. That was the least of his concerns, of course, but the scarlet on white was unnerving.

An hour after that, blood began pouring from her nose. Then it began streaming from her ears, then her eyes. Suddenly Voldemort began to think that something was wrong. He had no recollection of ever waking up from an eight hour bout of suffering to be covered in blood. But perhaps, he thought, every Horcrux maker was unique.

He became remarkably concerned around the seven-hour mark, when Bellatrix went silent and stopped moving altogether. When, at eight hours, she did not wake, his heart began to race. Her blood had dried, he could see now. She hadn't actively bled in some time. She hadn't been seizing for a while, either. She hadn't screamed in three hours. Then Voldemort saw something that made his own breath hitch in his throat.

Her lips were blue.

"Bella?"

He dashed over to her and shook her shoulders, trying his best to rouse her from the magical trance. She was eight hours in. She should be waking now. But Bellatrix lay silent and completely still, and her flesh was oddly chilly.

"Bellatrix! Wake up!  _Rennervate!"_  Voldemort aimed his trembling wand at her, ripping the brooch from her hand and tossing it aside. It came skittering back across the sheets toward him, as though drawn to him, but he ignored it. He shook Bellatrix again, but when he pried open her blood-encrusted eyes, they were blank, staring at nothing. Unfocused.

No.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort shook her so hard that her head lolled awkwardly, and he clutched her near to his chest, whispering, " _Legilimens._ "

He tried to crash into her mind, to read her thoughts. There were no thoughts to read. There was no mind there. She was dead. The witch he loved, the  _only_  witch he had ever loved, had been killed by his idiotic attempt to preserve her forever. What a selfish idiot he'd been, he thought. He desperately aimed his wand at her and mumbled,

" _Homenum Revelio._ "

Her body gave him no response, but the black pansy brooch vibrated and glowed. Voldemort's mouth fell open. Her soul. Her soul was in the brooch. He gently set her body down and whispered,

"Bella. Are you in there? Bellatrix."

He picked up the brooch and clutched it near, and he could suddenly feel her.

She was dead. He'd killed her with his foolish plot to keep her alive forever. But she was preserved in this brooch, in the Horcrux she'd somehow managed to make in some form. He would find a way, he told himself and her, to resurrect her. He would find a way to get her back. He would find a way to get Bellatrix back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her body as he lay her back on the bed. He realised he would need to Vanish her body. He couldn't reveal what had happened to her. He couldn't make up some grandiose story about her dying in battle, either. And, anyway, he didn't intend on keeping her dead. He almost threw up, but he tucked the brooch away and aimed his shaking wand at Bellatrix, whispering frantically,

"I love you. I love you. I love you, Bella. I will see you soon. I promise you.  _Corpus Evanesco._ "

**Author's Note: I apologize for the cliffhanger, but I promise this will be resolved soon. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this (probably rather shocking) story development. Thanks for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

"Good morning, Bellatrix," Voldemort said to the black pansy brooch, picking it up and carrying it with him into the bathroom. He covered it with a small towel as he relieved himself, for he thought it was indecent to urinate in front of her.

He'd gone a bit mad these last weeks, he knew. He was aware of that. But he'd been studying, reading, questioning, seeking an answer. He'd been trying desperately to find a way to get his Bellatrix back. He'd told everyone that she was on a mission for him, a Dark and dangerous mission, and they were not to ask questions.

He'd killed Ted Tonks. He'd done that in Bellatrix's honour, for she'd meant to do it for him. The day the boy had come home for the school holidays, Voldemort had stood outside King's Cross Station, Disillusioned, and had hit Ted with a Killing Curse as he and his aunt made their way to their car. The aunt had screamed, and Voldemort had Disapparated. He hadn't left a Dark Mark behind; the Ministry knew full well who was responsible.

He'd ordered every single Death Eater to kill a Muggle and leave the Dark Mark tattooed in the night sky. Tellery Crabbe had been apprehended by Aurors in the process and had been forced to kill himself to avoid capture, but everyone else had worn their new, silvery Death Eater masks that preserved anonymity, and they'd successfully been sowing fear for these last six weeks.

But Voldemort had been focused on studying. Working. Reading. Trying to get his Bellatrix back.

"Today," he told the brooch happily as he shaved his face, "is my birthday. That's why I allowed myself to sleep in. You probably did not know that my birthday was New Year's Eve. I do not suppose I ever told you. Well, you know now. Today is my birthday, and I am forty-four. So much older than you, though I suppose that no longer matters. Soon I'll be holding you again, Bella. Very soon."

The brooch sat on the towel, still and unmoving. He picked it up and caressed it, kissed it gently, and set it back down.

"I love you," he whispered, knowing her entire soul was encapsulated in the jewelry.

Hours later, he was in his office at Malfoy Manor, reading a book entitled  _Creations of the Darkest Sort_. It was an ancient tome, one he'd obtained from a shadowy bookseller in Knockturn Alley. He thumbed through the book and stopped at a chapter entitled, "Conjuring Bodies."

Intrigued, Voldemort paused, running his thumb over the black pansy brooch. He derived great comfort from touching it, from touching her, and he did so now for a long moment, shutting his eyes and breathing in the feel of her soul there. There was a New Year's Eve party tonight that he was slated to attend. Perhaps, he thought, he might bring Bellatrix along in his pocket. For now, he tried to make out the tight, old-fashioned script in the handwritten book.

_When it becomes necessary for one to create a body (we shall not speculate on the undoubtedly nefarious reasons one might possess for such a need), there exist virtually no spells or potions to assist. This level of Conjuration is nigh impossible for even the most skilled witch or wizard. The only spell in existence requires the following three requirements. One - the Conjurer must have murdered three innocents within three hours of creating the new body. Two - The Conjurer must be immensely powerful. Three - The Conjurer must imagine the body they wish to create and incant the spell, knowing that the Conjured body is likely to be deformed or murky in some unpredictable way. It will also be lacking a soul, unless, of course, one possesses the soul separately._

_To Conjure a new body, one must kill three innocents and incant, "Ego artifex hoc corpore," three times slowly._

_To inject a soul into the Conjured body, one must hold tightly to the soul's vessel and incant thrice, "Nunc movere anima."_

_The soul and body which result are perverted but immortal. The danger of this Dark magic can not be sufficiently stressed, and -_

Voldemort tossed the book down and snatched the brooch, pushing it into his pocket as he muttered,

"Bella. I'm going to see you soon. I'm going to hold you soon, Bellatrix."

He Disapparated then, his wand out, and when he came to in the middle of a street in London, he aimed his wand into a crowd and screamed,

" _BOMBARDA MAXIMA! BOMBARDA MAXIMA! BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"_

He quickly shielded himself from the explosions he'd set off. He looked around as screams and sirens and car horns began to go off. There was concrete everywhere. There was blood everywhere. Voldemort began counting bodies, searching into minds to check for death. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. That was good enough. He Disapparated immediately, knowing that witnesses would report seeing him and the Ministry would have a gigantic mess to clean up. He appeared again in his office in Malfoy manor, his heart racing and his breath accelerated in his chest.

He'd killed more than three innocents. He'd done that bit. Now he was meant to imagine the body he wanted to create. He pulled out the brooch and tried to steady his wand, which was shaking so badly in his hand that he almost dropped it.

" _Colloportus._ " He locked his door, unwilling to have anyone walk in on him right now. He pulled the brooch up to his lips and whispered, "Bella, be with me now."

He imagined her body. He imagined touching her, kissing her. He imagined her eyes, her nose, her lips. Her hair. He imagined how short she was, her little waist and breasts. And then he held his wand out and incanted very intently,

" _Ego artifex hoc corpore. Ego artifex hoc corpore. Ego artifex hoc corpore…_ "

He kept his eyes shut, and there was a rush of cold around him. He opened his eyes and gasped, for standing before him was a very pale young woman. It was her. It was Bellatrix, but she looked… off. She had deep red eyes, for one thing, and they were staring straight ahead. They were nearly burgundy. Her skin was so pale that it looked like a seashell, like bone china. Her hair was as it had always been, but longer and flowing a little in some unseen breeze. She seemed a little younger, as if she were more like sixteen; her face was doll-like with an enormous gaze and rounder cheekbones. She was thinner, and her womanly curves were gone. She was wearing a modest black gown of a very old-fashioned style. She looked a bit like a ghost, Voldemort thought. She was beautiful. She was  _there_.

Only, she wasn't. There was no soul inside that body, he reminded himself. He gulped and held more tightly to the black pansy brooch. Then he gulped past the knot in his throat and said firmly,

" _Nunc movere anima. Nunc movere anima. Nunc movere anima."_

He gasped again, for a rush of air seemed to suck something out of the brooch, and it moved in a blur of light toward the body he had crafted. The body flushed with light for a moment, glowing and vibrating just a little. Then, very suddenly, the black pansy brooch dissolved straight out of Voldemort's palm into thin air.

The witch in the new body blinked, her burgundy eyes focusing on Voldemort's face. She frowned in confusion. She tipped her head, and he realised she didn't recognise him. But then she nodded and smiled a little, and it was by far the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life.

"Master," she whispered, and he shed the first tears he could remember crying. He nodded at her, letting the tears stream freely down his cheeks. He took a step toward her and said,

"I thought I had lost you."

"It's snowing outside," she murmured. "Weeks have passed. I was… somewhere else. I don't know where. A great empty nothing."

"You were with me," Voldemort informed her. "I carried you about and I never let you go. Not ever."

"Master." She pulled back the sleeve of her left arm and scowled. "My Mark is gone. I am in a different form."

"I had to make a new body for you," Voldemort nodded. "Things went very wrong making your Horcrux, but I… I…"

"I died," Bellatrix noted, and she sounded oddly at peace with the notion. Voldemort just nodded.

"It took me weeks to find a solution, but I did, and now you are here again."

"But you must give me my Dark Mark. Please, Master, say that you will make me yours again," Bellatrix begged him, and Voldemort licked his lip carefully as he informed her,

"I mean to make you mine in a great many ways, Bella." He did not tell her about the ring in his pocket. He could tell her about that later. For now he just informed her, "There is a party tonight. I should like it if you will attend on my arm."

She smiled again and nodded, looking a bit too young for his liking. She was a scarlet-eyed doll now, her hair moving just a little, her face too perfect and pale. But it didn't matter. She was here. She was his. She asked him,

"What is the party for?"  
"My birthday," he said immediately, but then he shook his head, realising he wasn't thinking straight, and he amended, "New Year's Eve."

Bellatrix frowned and tipped her head again. "Is it your birthday, Master? I thought I heard you earlier, talking about that."

"You… heard me?" Voldemort approached her and asked seriously, "How often did you hear me?"

"All the time, I think," Bellatrix said. "Talking about cooking dinner. About Ted Tonks. About Mulciber killing a Muggle in -"

He took her face in his hands then, feeling her cool flesh beneath his palms, and his chest ached.

"I spoke to you and thought I was a madman," he whispered, but she covered his hands with her tiny ones and whispered,

"No. No, My Lord. You are anything but mad. You are a genius."

"Bellatrix." He kissed her hard then, not caring that she was new, that she was different. He kissed her until his lips were bruised, and it was just like always. She was  _here_ , and that was what mattered.

**Author's Note: So, he resurrected her, but she's red-eyed, doll-like, younger-looking, kinda floaty, immortal, and cool to the touch. New Year's Eve party should be interesting, huh? As well as the subsequent lemon… ;) Thank you SO MUCH for the incredible feedback on the last chapter. I really appreciate it.**


	19. Chapter 19

Madam Lestrange… erm… Miss Black! How… good to see you." Avery winced. He did not seem to think it was very good to see Bellatrix at all. She blinked a few times through her slightly confused vision, and she nodded as her mind registered the name and face.

"Mr Avery," she said. "I've been busy. My apologies for my absence. And my appearance."

"Dark magic takes its toll," Voldemort said beside her, "but, once again, Bellatrix has served me very loyally indeed."

Bellatrix stared up at him and smiled a little, but he seemed a bit unnerved by her. He flashed Avery a happy little look, and Avery, who seemed profoundly uneasy, sipped his drink.

"May I get you some Champagne, Bella?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix frowned. Could she drink alcohol in this form? Could she eat food? She had no idea. She just nodded at him, and as he walked off, Abraxas Malfoy stepped up.

"Miss Black," he said with a little bow, and when her red eyes met his, he jolted. "Erm… Happy New Year."

"Thank you for the party, Mr Malfoy," Bellatrix said softly. Some of her curls floated gently around her, and she wasn't sure what the force was behind that. Malfoy seemed confused, too, but then Voldemort came back up and handed Bellatrix a glass of Champagne. She curled her lips up and whispered, "Thank you, Master."

She sipped at the Champagne, and it tasted bitter and awful. She shoved the glass back into Voldemort's hand and shook her head wildly. His eyes went wide, and Bellatrix realised that she wouldn't need to eat or drink in this form. Food and drink were unnecessary. She could feel that. Moreover, they were impossible. Abraxas Malfoy and Avery watched in wonder at the way Bellatrix had shoved her drink at her master, and he barked at them,

"Stop staring. Go."

"My Lord." They both bowed their heads and walked off, and Voldemort asked softly,

"No food or drink?"

"Blech. No. No, no, no." She shook her head and shut her eyes. "No food. No drink."  
"All right," he said quietly. "Well. I'll take that over your soul residing in a brooch."

She knew what he was thinking then. Could she have sex? Would she. Oh, yes, she thought. In fact, she'd been craving him since the moment she'd woken up. It had been like opening her eyes from a very long, deep dream. And when she'd done that, she'd seen her master, and she'd wanted him.

"My Lord?" she said gently, and he stared down at her with two glasses of Champagne in his hands. She raised her eyebrows and told him, "I… need you."

He seemed very surprised then, and more than a little emotional. He passed the two glasses to Dobby, the House-Elf who was passing by, and he slipped his fingers into Bellatrix's. He pulled her out of the ballroom and into the empty corridor, pushing her against the wall a bit as he stared down at her and hesitated.

"You look so young."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he shrugged.

"I know it's you." He bent and kissed her, and she was self-conscious then of the way her lips were chilly, of the way her skin was so pale, the way her eyes were a deep red. She was self-conscious of her vanished womanly curves. She did feel, in this body, as though she were sixteen at most. She put her thin hands on Voldemort's chest and whispered up at him,

"I want you. I want you."

"Office. Now." He dragged her by her hand toward his office, and when they reached it, he shut the door behind him. Bellatrix said desperately,

"It's your birthday, and I didn't give you a gift."

"Didn't give me a gift?" He whirled around and yanked her skirts up roughly as he shoved her toward a wall. "Didn't give me a gift? You came back from the dead for me on my birthday, and you didn't give me a gift? Bellatrix. Don't be stupid."

"Sorry, Master." She kissed him back as his face bent down to hers, and then suddenly she felt the pads of his fingers between her thighs. She gasped at the feel of him there. She was so much more sensitive than she'd ever been before. She thrust her head back against the wall as his fingers pumped beneath her knickers.

"Master!" She squeezed at his chest and arched her back a little. She was shorter now, she knew. She must be. He seemed taller. In the great nothingness, his thoughts and voice had been an echo in her mind. He couldn't see her thoughts now, he'd told her, but it didn't matter. He could certainly tell what she was feeling. He must be able to. She stomped her foot as his fingers twisted and his breath quickened, and she cried out,

"I'm going to come!"

"What?" He didn't seem to believe her, but suddenly she bent at the waist and everything snapped. She screamed a little, for the intensity was almost overwhelming. Her walls snapped and clenched so hard around his fingers that he groaned, and she felt fire flush her through in a delicious way.

"Master. Master, Master, Master…" She whined his name desperately, helplessly, and she stood back up and drove her head back against the wall. She was standing alone then, watching as Voldemort reached into his dress robes and fumbled with his trousers. He was pulling himself out, she could see.

"Yes," she whispered. "Take it out for me, My Lord. Give it to me… hard and thick and throbbing…"

"Bellatrix." He seemed shocked by her language, but she did not apologise. Instead, she descended to her knees on instinct, deciding she wanted him in her mouth. She wanted him in her mouth  _now_. She bent down before him and reached for his cock, and he grunted as she wrapped her hand around his shaft.

"Master," she breathed, her voice worshipping him. Her breath was warm on his shaft then as she breathed her new life onto him. She suckled the tip of his cock into her mouth, popping it between her lips over and over. She dragged her hand up and down the shaft a few times, and her other hand fondled his balls. She stared up at him, and suddenly he didn't seem to mind the new colour of her eyes.

"I love you," she informed him, dragging his tip along her bottom lip like lipstick.

"I'm about to finish… oh…" Voldemort seemed completely breathless then, and Bellatrix shoved down the neckline of her immodest party dress. She aimed his cock at the little swell of her breasts, and as she pumped her hand on him, she told him,

"Paint my flesh with your come, Master. Leave your mark on me… your own mark… Master…"

"Fucking  _hell_ , Bellatrix!" His knees almost buckled then, she could see. His come leaped all over her skin in obscene, milky puddles. She dragged it around with her fingers and reveled in the feel of it on her. She shut her eyes for a moment and whispered,

"I am yours, Master. I am yours forever and ever and -"

"Marry me."

She opened her eyes then, still covered in his seed, and he suddenly whipped out his wand to clean her up. Once he'd done that, he tucked his cock away and buttoned up his trousers, and Bellatrix felt her weak pulse speed up a little. She breathed quickly as she stood, convinced she'd heard him wrong. That had been a stray, odd thought that she'd misinterpreted, hadn't it?

"It's almost midnight, Master," she noted lightly. "Two minutes to midnight."

"Mmm-hmm." He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, and suddenly Bellatrix felt very strange. She felt like she was floating, like she was drowning. Less than two minutes to midnight now, she realised.

"Bella," Voldemort said, almost angrily, "When I thought I had lost you, it was… I went nearly mad with grief and with… you must understand, Bellatrix, that I am far more madly in love with you than I ever intended on being with anyone else, and watching you die was…"

One minute to midnight now, Bellatrix thought distantly. His birthday was nearly over. She blinked up at him and whispered,

"What's in your hand, Master?"

He swallowed hard and opened it to reveal a platinum band with a pansy crafted of black metal at the top. In the centre of the pansy was a small diamond. He'd had this made, she realised, just for her. Her eyes welled suddenly, and she nodded and held out her left hand, which for some reason did not shake. Voldemort slid the ring onto her left fourth finger and said in a way that left no room for debate,

"Marry me."

"Yes, Master," she nodded, raising her new red eyes to him. He kissed her then, and she heard the party down the hall celebrate the strike of midnight.


	20. Chapter 20

"You're not tired?" Voldemort asked from where he lay in her bed. They'd come back to the Lestrange townhouse. He couldn't have her lying in the bed where she'd died. Not tonight. She stood by the window, her nightgown billowing about her in the same unseen breeze that moved her hair.

"No, Master," she said. "I don't suppose I shall ever sleep again. I shan't ever eat, or drink, or sleep… at least I don't need the toilet."

She smirked at him, and he sat up slowly.

"I am sorry," he said. "I do not know what went wrong."

"It doesn't matter," she said dismissively. "I would have died in battle eventually, and then you wouldn't have had me in the brooch."

He rather liked her outlook on that, he had to admit. But she seemed sad as she said distantly,

"I am not fully human. Nor I am fully a ghost. I am somewhere lost between. And yet I feel profound urges that seem very human. The need to kill. The need to fuck you."

"Bella." Voldemort's mouth fell open. He shook his head, shocked by her words. She'd been obscene in his office, too. He found he didn't mind it entirely. She turned toward him, her red eyes blazing, and suddenly he flushed hard. Bellatrix licked at her bottom lip and said,

"I need to be… drilled into the mattress…"

"Bella." He gulped, watching as she stripped off her nightgown. He gasped a little; she was absolutely beautiful. Every feature was perfect, like she was crafted of clay by a master potter. Bellatrix gave him a crooked smile and reminded him,

"You made me. Is this what Muggles mean when they speak of gods? My Lord… are you a god?"

"Bella." He couldn't say anything else. He was just a blabbering idiot now. His breath shook in his nostrils as she stepped up to the side of the bed and whispered,

"I think you are a god. My creator, my master."

"Your intended," he nodded firmly, and she smiled.

"My future husband." She pulled back the blankets and started rubbing at him through his pyjama trousers. "You always liked to sleep naked, you said. Why don't you sleep naked now?"  
"I didn't want to… oh… erm, alarm you," he said, but Bellatrix scoffed a little and said,

"I find I am no longer easily alarmed, My Lord."

"Bella." He shut his eyes as she pulled his trousers down, as she climbed up onto the bed. When he opened his eyes and kicked his trousers away, she was putting herself on her hands and knees and then dropping her chest down. He rubbed at her back and went behind her, murmuring,

"If I do this, it's going to last thirty damned seconds, I hope you know."

"That's fine," she said a bit breathlessly. "I don't mind."

He liked her like this, at once urgent but calm. He liked this new madness in her mind, this frantic serenity. He dragged his fingers over her entrance a few times and felt her shiver. He twisted two fingers into her and whispered,

"You're perfectly human here. Warm, even."

"Am I?" She squirmed against him and drove her fists against the pillow, whispering, "Cock inside of me. Please, please, please."

Voldemort felt himself twitch. He very much enjoyed  _this_  - being craved like this. He liked this side of her, this insatiable side of her. He pushed into her body and grunted at the feel of being sheathed. Tight. She was so unbelievably tight. He took a shaking breath and held her minuscule waist, not minding her cool flesh beneath his hands. She circled her hips a little, and he stilled her and mumbled,

"Wait. Stop, Bella; you'll make me… oh,  _fuck_ …" He knew he only had a few moments. He began to pound her as hard as he could. In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out. He thrust into her like a vicious machine, like some kind of mechanical beast hellbent on destruction. But she wasn't destroyed; she was driven roughly toward the headboard and moaned like a whore. He felt her come thirty seconds into it. He felt her clenching, heard her moans turn into little shrieks muffled by the pillows, and he breathlessly sped up his pushes. He finally buried himself inside of her and came, his seed bursting into her in leaps as his hands shook on her backside.

"Bellatrix!" he snarled, rubbing at her back and shoulders as his head spun and his ears rang. He finally -  _finally_ \- allowed his softening cock to slip out of her, and then he lay on his back beside her, panting. He marveled when she wandlessly Conjured a glass for him and then reached for her wand and filled it with water, handing it over.

"Did you just… wandless…" Voldemort took the glass, and Bellatrix frowned. She smiled a bit then and aimed her hand at the window.

" _Finestra,_ " she incanted, and when the window turned to dust, she giggled and quickly said, " _Reparo._ "

Voldemort choked out a little sound and then shook his head, amazed that she was so much more powerful like this. She cuddled down beside him, and he almost offered her the rest of the water until he remembered that she didn't eat or drink anymore. That made him feel awkward, and he set the glass down, remembering her eating Cauldron Cakes and vomiting up broth. His eyes burned, and he asked her,

"Did you see him? On the other side of all this?"

"Rodolphus, you mean," she said. "No. I was alone. I could hear you, though. I don't think I was fully dead; I was encased in that brooch. Or, at least, my soul was. I pondered a few things, all of them about how deeply I loved you and wanted to see you again."

"Oh." He stared at the ceiling then and said to her, "I remember your wedding day to Rodolphus. Seems so long ago now, but it was only six months. You wore a fluffy white gown. I'll bet you hated it."

"I did," she said from beside him. He sighed and told her,

"We shall have a small, very brief ceremony at a meeting. Augustus Rookwood can officiate; he's done it a thousand times at the Ministry. We'll stick with an arranged marriage ceremony to avoid too much emotion, but…"

She was crying now, tears boiling over her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, and Voldemort shrugged.

"Is that not what you want?"

"It is so much more than I could ever want. Master," she murmured, pulling herself up against him. "I need to kill. I need… I need to kill."

"What, right now?" Voldemort asked, and she nodded fervently. Voldemort raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Well, get dressed and go kill someone, then. Stay hidden; I set off explosions earlier today."

"You what?" Bellatrix asked, and he turned up half his mouth.

"Before I made you again, I had to kill three people. I did a lot more than that; I was eager and desperate. I set off a few large explosions in a street. I didn't leave a Dark Mark, but the Ministry will have panicked. I can't wait to read the  _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow."

Bellatrix grinned and suddenly seemed to buzz with energy. "I have an idea."

"Have you?" Voldemort sat up and watched her fly out of the bed - literally fly, it seemed - and yank on her nightgown. Her hair ebbed and flowed around her pale face in the unseen breeze, and her red eyes seemed to glow a little as she smiled warmly.

"Please give me permission," she whispered, and he shrugged.

"Permission for what?"

"Please just tell me I can kill an enemy," she begged him, and he threw his hands up.

"Yes. Of course you can. What are you -"

She kissed him hard then, and he scoffed as she padded away from him, calling, "I'll be back, Master!"  
He spent the next ten minutes just marveling. She was a sex vixen now. She was powerful with wandless magic. She had just Disapparated in perfect silence. Was it possible that dying was the best thing that had ever happened to her? Perhaps she wouldn't eat or drink or sleep again. Did that matter? Perhaps it did not. Voldemort scratched at his greying hair and contemplated that he looked so old these days. He'd aged a little in her absence. But she looked younger than ever. She looked perfect and doll-like. How fortunate a bridegroom he'd be at the meeting where they would marry.

"Master."

He jolted, surprised by her sudden entrance into the bedroom. She shook a little with excitement, and he wished suddenly that he could see into her mind like he used to be able to do. He cocked a brow and asked,

"What have you done?"

"I've killed Andy," Bellatrix hummed, moving back onto the bed. "I've killed my sister."

"Andromeda." Voldemort wrapped Bellatrix up in his arms and breathed in the vaguely oceanic scent of her. She was cold and fresh, and he kissed her cheek. "You killed the blood traitor?"

"I did," Bellatrix said, laughing quietly. "She was home from school. I killed her silently in her bedroom, then left her there. Quiet. Unmoving. No one will know exactly what happened. No one but you and me, Master."

"Marry me," he whispered, and before she could giggle that she'd already agreed to do so, he said against her lips, "Very, very soon, become my wife, Bellatrix. You are perfect, and you are mine. Hm?"

"Oh. Yes, Master," she whispered, and she kissed him as he pulled her back down onto the bed.

**Author's Note: So, she's changed a little. Mwah hahahaha. Now, what will the** _**Daily Prophet** _ **say about Voldemort's little bombing raid on London, and how will the Death Eaters react to the idea of Voldemort marrying the much younger, undead widow of a Death Eater he himself killed… at a meeting?**


	21. Chapter 21

" _BOMBASTIC DISASTER TERRORISES LONDON_ ," Lord Voldemort read to the assembled Death Eaters. This was an all-hands meeting, and though he was reading something terribly alarming from the  _Daily Prophet_ , Bellatrix was acutely aware of the way dozens of eyes were staring at her. They were watching her curls sway around her form, looking at her pale skin and her red eyes. She glanced around, and the eyes left her.

" _Believed to be the work of none other than the fearsome Lord Voldemort, a series of explosions detonated in Muggle London yesterday. The New Year's Eve disaster claimed a total of twelve Muggle lives and left approximately seventy-eight injured. Ministry officials were left scrambling to alter memories, provide reasonable explanations for the explosions (a Muggle terrorist attack), and to attempt to heal the wounded in the street. Lord Voldemort matched the description given by Muggle witnesses, who saw a wizard use a wand to create the explosions before Disapparating. Lord Voldemort - formerly known as Tom Riddle - is now Undesirable Number One yet again, unseating Mr Mulciber, his ally. There is a bounty of fifty thousand Galleons for Lord Voldemort's capture._ "

"Anyone who attempts to get that bounty will see a flash of green light," Bellatrix snarled, and Voldemort smirked at her.

"They all know better. Don't they?" he asked, and everyone nodded fervently. Bellatrix crossed her arms and narrowed her scarlet eyes.

"I'd kill any traitor myself."

"You would. I know it. You killed a blood traitor just two nights ago, Bella, didn't you? What was her name again?" Voldemort asked lightly, and Bellatrix smiled.

"Andromeda Black, Master."

"Andromeda Black." Voldemort waited for the murmurs and whispers around the table to die down, and then he turned to the second page of the newspaper. "She didn't make the cover, I'm afraid. Here it is.  _Andromeda Tonks found dead in parents' home - Andromeda, the middle daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, was found dead in her bed at the Black family home early yesterday morning. She showed signs of having been struck by a Killing Curse, but thus far there have been no arrests. Her own wand was across the room, so a suicide has been ruled out. No funeral is planned._ "

"No funeral is planned, My Lord," Bellatrix said urgently, "because I informed my parents this morning that if they held one, they'd meet the same end as Andy. You won't tolerate blood traitors, Master, and so neither will I. Her nasty Mudblood boyfriend is dead - you killed him, and I killed his parents. And now Andy's gone, too, because she was a blood traitor. But Narcissa will do much better; she's to marry Lucius Malfoy."

"And I'm sure they'll have loads and loads of little Pureblood offspring," Voldemort said, triggering a laugh from the others and a grin from Bellatrix. He eyed Abraxas Malfoy, who smiled nervously, and then he set down the  _Daily Prophet._ He beckoned with one finger to Bellatrix, who leaped from her chair and dashed quickly toward him.

"Rookwood," Voldemort said, and Augustus Rookwood flew to his feet. Voldemort cleared his throat and glanced beside him to Bellatrix. She was shorter now, so they were nearly eye to eye, even with him sitting. Voldemort held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to Rookwood and commanded him, "Marry us."

Rookwood's eyes went wide, and Bellatrix felt her heart speed in her chest. It was one of the only human sensations she had - the quickening pulse Voldemort gave her. Rookwood visibly gulped and stammered,

"You want… erm… Master, you wish for me to -"

"Marry me to Bellatrix. Now," Voldemort nodded, and the others looked at one another in confusion. Voldemort said to them, "None of you realised you were attending a wedding today. Don't trouble yourselves; you can get gifts later. Rookwood. Marry us. Now."

Augustus Rookwood came rushing toward Voldemort, who stubbornly stayed sitting. Bellatrix realised what a demonstration of power that was. He would marry her sitting down, like a king on a throne. She stood dutifully beside him, her hair flowing about her, and now she realised why he'd insisted that she wear a nice dress today. She'd worn black silk with a sash around her waist, and she'd put some makeup on her doll-like face.

"Will you be wanting documentation, My Lord?" Rookwood asked carefully. "It's not necessary to  _be_ married, of course, but for Ministry purposes, it's -"

"Why would I want the Ministry to have documentation of my marriage?" Voldemort snapped. "Perform the rite. Arranged-style, if you please."

"Yes, Master." Rookwood bowed his head, glancing to his comrades at the table. His voice shook like a leaf as he said, "My friends. Today we have gathered to witness the union of this wizard and this witch. Through willful consent and the power of their magic, they will be bound together in perpetuity. My Lord."

He turned to Voldemort then, who tipped his head and stared expectantly from where he sat. Rookwood asked,

"Is it your will to be married to… to this witch?"

"Her name is Bellatrix," Voldemort said. "Yes. It is my will to be married to Bellatrix."

Rookwood's face went white then as he asked, "Bellatrix, is it your will to be married to… your master?"

"It is my will," Bellatrix said, feeling more confident than she'd ever felt in her entire life. Rookwood whispered then,

"Have you got rings, My Lord?"

"Naturally." Voldemort reached into his pocket and pulled out two plain platinum bands, and Rookwood cleared his throat.

"Master, if you will place the ring upon Bellatrix's finger and make a vow you find fitting."

Voldemort turned in his chair, and Bellatrix held her left hand out to him, her eyes burning as she met his stare. They just gazed at one another for a long moment, and suddenly she remembered  _everything._ She remembered the fear that had come with her failed pregnancy, the sensation of nearly dying then. She remembered the way he'd come to visit her, the way he'd brought her Cauldron Cakes, the way he'd brought her black pansies day after day. She remembered the way he'd killed Rodolphus because of how she'd been treated, the way he'd confessed he loved her.

"I will love you forever," he said suddenly, right there in front of everyone, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open. She felt him slide the ring onto her right finger, and he just shrugged and said again, "I will love you forever."

There was a great heavy silence in the room then, and at last Rookwood said,

"Bellatrix, if you will put the ring on your master's finger and make a vow you find fitting."

She took his ring from him and took his warm left hand in her cool right one. She bowed her head respectfully, and as she slid the ring on, she whispered,

"Creator and Master, I will serve you and love you forever."

"Take out your wands, please," she heard Rookwood say, and Bellatrix pulled out her wand as Voldemort did the same. Rookwood instructed them, "Touch your wand to the ring of your new spouse and incant as one,  _Sumus Unum._ "

" _Sumus Unum._ " Bellatrix and Voldemort touched at the other's rings, and there was a glow of magic around them. Rookwood told them,

"Now you are husband and wife forevermore. Allow me to be the very first to offer my sincerest congratulations."

Suddenly everyone was clapping, standing and clapping and staring, and Bellatrix was lost in Voldemort's eyes. She was  _his_. She had died, and he had made her new, made her immortal, made her  _his_. She couldn't help herself - she bent to kiss him, and he kissed her back as though no one were watching. When at last they broke away, he barked at the others,

"Dismissed. Get out."

The room cleared quickly, and Bellatrix dove in for another kiss. When they were both breathless, he stood, looming over her, and he whispered down to her,

"We can kiss today and tomorrow and the next day, forever, Bella. Forever."

"Forever, Master," she whispered, and she pushed up onto her toes to kiss him again.

THE END

**Author's Note: I have decided to take an extended break from writing fanfiction, so you won't see another story from me immediately now that this one is done. Thank you so kindly to all those who have spent the last year or so following all of my Bellamort writings. I am grateful for your time, attention, and reviews. So much love to all.**


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